"Myself?" he said slowly. "Well, this is my life. I live in the cottage, you know--very simply. It was a wonderful stroke of luck--getting the job. I saw it in the Agony Column." "Before or after you'd given notice?" "After. I tell you, I was thankful. And now--I little dreamed what a wonderful billet it was. Living in these beautiful woods, with nothing to----" "Why did you give notice?" said Valerie. "Oh, I don't know. I think I was unsettled. After all, a footman's job----" "Was it because of me?" There was a long silence. Then-- "Yes," said Anthony. "But that's ancient history," he added quickly. "It wasn't your fault if I chose to take that line. Besides"--he flung out demonstrative arms--"see what you've brought me, Valerie. When I think that less than three months ago I was carrying coals and washing up glasses and waiting at table----" "And in love with me," said Valerie. Lyveden's outstretched arms fell to his side. The worst had happened. Valerie was under his guard.... A pitiful hunted look came into the steady grey eyes. Slowly the brown right hand stole up to his forehead. "I never ought to have been," he said dully. "I ought to have had more sense. It was always--out of the question ... utterly. I think perhaps if I'd had a job to put my back into, I'd 've----" He hesitated, at a loss for an expression which would not be ungallant. Instantly Valerie lunged. "You'd 've what?" "Behaved better," he said desperately, turning back the way they had come. Head back, eyes closed, lips parted, Valerie stood like a statue. "Behaved ... better?" she whispered. "Behaved ... better?" She shivered, and, when the blue eyes opened, there was the flash of tears springing. "When you talk like that," she said quietly, "you make me feel like death. I deserve it, I know. I deserve anything. But, if you knew how it hurt, I think you'd spare me." Staring into the distance, Anthony dug his nails into his palms. "I came here to-day to pray your forgiveness. Since I--found I was wrong, I've been more utterly wretched than I thought a woman could be. I didn't know there was such agony in this world. Aunt Harriet'll bear me out, and so will the Alisons. I told them the truth. And when, after all these weeks, I found where you were, I just thanked God.... You and I know what we were to each other. Try and put yourself in my place. Supposing you'd turned me down--because you were rotten...." Anthony winced. "Yes, rotten. There's no other word. And then you'd found out your mistake. How would you feel?" "I'm sure you had cause," blurted Lyveden. "It was a mistake, of course. But you couldn't know that. And I--I've nothing to forgive, dear. I've never thought ill of you--never once. I can't pretend I wasn't shaken, but I always knew there was some mix-up." "You were--shaken?" said Valerie. Anthony nodded. "You see," he explained, "I was terribly----" "Have you got over it?" said Valerie.