false and painful. What a monstrous thing! Why did she go on
pretending, playing a farce? I could have sworn that no girl lived
who was more thoroughly honest in word and deed and thought. It's
awful to think how one can be deceived. I understand now the novels
about unfaithful wives, and all that kind of thing. I always said to
myself--'Pooh, as if a fellow wouldn't know if his wife were
deceiving him'! By Jove this has made me afraid of the thought of
marriage. I shall never again trust a woman."

Warburton sat in meditation, only half smiling.

"Of course, she's ashamed to face me. For fear I should run after
her, she wrote that they were just leaving Trient for another place,
not mentioned. If I wrote, I was to address to Bath, and the letter
would be forwarded. I wrote--of course a fool's letter; I only
wish I'd never sent it. Sometimes I think I'll never try to see her
again; sometimes I think I'll make her see me, and tell her the
truth about herself. The only thing is--I'm half afraid--I've
gone through torture enough; I don't want to begin again. Yet if I
saw her--"

He took another turn across the room, then checked himself before
Warburton.

"Tell me honestly what you think about it. I want advice. What's
your opinion of her?"

"I have no opinion at all. I don't pretend to know her well enough."

"Well, but," persisted Franks, "your impression--your feeling. How