"I don’t blame you at all," he said. "Not in any way. You lost your temper--perhaps you lost your head a little--but you had great provocation. You see, Angelica, Vincent came to me and explained the whole thing. I must say he was very candid--and fine about it. He told me frankly that he had tried to--mislead you, and that you refused to listen to him; and that that was the reason he behaved so badly to you. Of course, he _has_ behaved badly, all around,--shamefully; but still--he has good points. I thought it was a--a plucky sort of thing to do, you know, especially when we were on such bad terms. He said he couldn’t bear to think of your being blamed in any sort of way." Angelica was amazed and delighted that she had been made into a persecuted heroine. She was filled with admiration for Vincent’s nobility; and yet she could dimly perceive that there was something behind it, that he gained something he wanted by this false confession. It seemed a miracle that Eddie had been spared, both by him and by Polly, those very facts which Angelica was so anxious for him not to know. "He said he was sorry for the whole thing," Eddie went on. "He begged me to try to influence Polly to give him another chance. I couldn’t do that. I simply said I’d tell her exactly what he had said, and what he’d done. I did. I had a long talk with her; but she’s finished with him. She didn’t say a word against him, but--she’s finished with him." "But is it that--about me? Is that the reason she’s leaving him?" Angelica asked, with anxiety. "No! As far as that goes, there are plenty of things far worse--in that _line_, you know. No! I think it’s chiefly about the money. She says she couldn’t trust him again. She says it’s impossible to live with him under such conditions. I suppose it is. Anyway, she’s absolutely determined to leave him." Angelica sat in silence, more utterly wretched than ever. Had Vincent just sacrificed himself for her? Did he really love her? And for his love was he to be utterly cast out? "No!" she said suddenly, aloud. "No what?" asked Eddie. "Nothing. I was just thinking. There comes the rain!" she cried. "Gosh, what a storm!" They both got up, to push back their chairs against the wall of the house, but even there it reached them--the spray from the rain falling in straight, heavy lines, dashing against the earth with a fierce drumming noise that filled the air and confused the senses. The smell of the soil, the dead leaves, the grass, came to them with its own invigorating freshness; and in spite of the chilly sprinkle in their faces they lingered; fascinated by the noise, the wet odours, the great black, uproarious void before them. They stood close together, their shoulders touching, their backs against the wall. "Angelica!" said Eddie’s voice in her ear, curiously flat and faint in the surrounding din. "Angelica, _can’t_ you? Just think--if I could only know--while I’m away--that you--that you were waiting for me!"