worst. Her head was turned away.

He nodded to himself. It was as he feared.

At that moment a boy came running along the walk towards them, and handed
Mr. Vandewaters a telegram. He gave the lad a few pence, then, with an
apology, opened the telegram. Presently he whistled softly, in a quick
surprised way. Then he stuffed the paper into his waistcoat pocket, threw
away his cigar, and turned to Gracia Raglan, whose face as yet was only
half towards him. "I hope your news is good," she said very quietly.

"Pretty bad, in a way," he answered. "I have lost a couple of
millions--maybe a little more."

She gasped, and turned an astonished face on him. He saw her startled
look, and laughed.

"Does it not worry you?" she asked.

"I have got more important things on hand just now," he answered. "Very
much more important," he added, and there was that in his voice which
made her turn away her head again.

"I suppose," he went on, "that the story you have just heard is not the
kind of an autobiography you would care to have told in your
drawing-room?"

Still she did not reply; but her hands were clasped tightly in front of
her. "No: I suppose not," he went on--"I--I suppose not. And yet, do you
know, Miss Raglan, I don't feel a bit ashamed of it, after all: which may