“We were a couple of idiots to be taken in by his flashiness. We knew nothing about the man except what he told us himself, and that absence of relatives and friends, except those half-dozen men who came here, seemed to me to look more and more ‘fishy’ every time I thought it over. Well, it’s no use bewailing the past, we’ve got to make the best of the future. If I can help it, you’re not going under because of one hideous mistake.” Thus the encouraging Alma, who proceeded to unfold her plans for the future. “You must get out of here as soon as you can. I’ll find you a little furnished flat where you can hide yourself for a bit; when the time comes, you’ll go into a nursing home. Later on we’ll find a good home for the child, under an assumed name, where you can go and see it at regular intervals, and satisfy yourself that it is being well looked after. You’re young and have all your life before you. You must drop the name of Darcy, forget you were ever married, and start again as Lettice Larchester. It’s lucky that you know hardly anybody, except those pals of his who are never likely to see you again, and wouldn’t round on you if they did. Keep clear of my crowd, in six months they’ll forget there was ever such a person. As a matter of fact, guessing you’d want to drop them, I haven’t even mentioned your married name, just said you had married a ‘swell.’ Oh Lord, what a couple of raw fools we were!” And a grim smile overspread the young woman’s comely features, she was only a girl then, as she recalled the days in Paris and the impression made upon them by the elegant Darcy. Of that dishonest person, it may be narrated that he came before a severe judge, who did not believe in leniency, was tried and found guilty, and received a sentence of ten years. At the end of two he died of pneumonia—he had always been a delicate man—and Lettice was a free woman. Save for that hateful shadow of the past which naturally grew fainter with the passing of every year, her lot was not altogether an unhappy one. The five thousand pounds which she had not scrupled to take from the tainted hands of Tom Granger, added to her own small capital, brought her in quite a respectable little income and removed her for ever from the intrusion of sordid anxieties. The child, a winsome little fellow, was quite happy with his foster-parents. She took up her art again, more from a desire for occupation than necessity. She did not go to Alma Buckley, but her friend came frequently to her, and every day the past seemed to recede further into oblivion. And as she grew better in health and spirits, her old ambitions began to revive. Had life really closed for her because of that one hideous mistake? She talked it over with her faithful friend.