things that stood there, and he began his tale. He told her everything from the beginning: of his wild infatuation for Mrs. Emsworth, of the absolute innocence of that attachment, and of the letter he had written. She interrupted him here.
' I do not see why you tell me this,' she said. ' I knew all you have told me.'
' You did not know it from me,' he said. ' That makes a difference.'
For the first time her face softened a little.
' Yes,' she said, ' I see that.'
' Do you believe what I tell you?'
She turned now and faced him.
' No, Bertie, I am afraid not,' she said. ' It is not reasonable. We all know what sort of a woman Mrs. Emsworth is. You say you were madly in love with her. We know also what a man's code of morality usually is. Is it reasonable?'
' There is a reason,' he said.
' Tell it me, then.'
' It is hard to tell you,' he said. ' But it is this: She loved me. For that reason she wished me not—not to act unworthily. So she laughed at me. She sent me away.'
Amelie got up and stood in front of him, with head downcast. Instinctively and completely she knew this to be the truth, and was humbled. She touched his arm gently with her finger-tips.
' Yes, that is a very good reason,' she said. ' Bertie, I am sorry. All these awful weeks I have believed the other. It has made everything black and bitter to me.'
' Have you minded so much?' he asked.
' I have minded more than I can possibly tell you,' she said. ' But I believe you now. And I am sorry.'
Bertie took her hand and kissed it. There was more to tell yet.
