"No, you wouldn't think of that," said Hewson. Though he agreed with
her, he would have preferred that she should continue to blame herself;
but he took himself severely in hand again. "So, you see, the fault was
altogether mine, and if there is to be any penalty it ought to fall upon
me."

"Yes," said Miss Hernshaw, "and if there has been a fault there ought to
be a penalty, don't you think? It would have been no penalty for me to
buy St. Johnswort. My father wouldn't have minded it." She blushed
suddenly, and added, "I don't mean that--You may be so rich that--I think
I had better stop."

"No, no!" said Hewson, amused, and glad of the relief. "Go on. I will
tell you anything you wish to know."

"I don't wish, to know anything," said Miss Hernshaw, haughtily.

Her words seemed to put an end to an interview for which there was no
longer any excuse.

Hewson rose. "Good-by," he said, and he was rather surprised at her
putting out her hand, but he took it gratefully. "Will you make my adieux
to Mrs. Rock? And excuse my coming a second time to trouble you!"

"I don't see how you could have helped coming," said Miss Hernshaw, "when
you thought I might write to Mr. St. John at once."

Whether this implied excuse or greater blame, Hewson had to go away with
it as her final response, and he went away certainly in as great
discomfort as he had come. He did not feel quite well used; it seemed to