But he didn’t accept it――he couldn’t. Secretly, and underneath everything, and, without admitting it even to himself, he couldn’t help being doubtful, and I knew he was doubtful. If I had suddenly told him the photographs were mine, and expressed appropriate remorse, I believe it would have made him happier than my denial did. As I saw the wretchedness of his face the injustice of the whole thing became intolerable. “Do you believe me, or do you not?” I asked brusquely. “I have told you I believe you.” “You don’t look as if you did.” “I can’t pretend to treat the matter as of no importance. My believing you means that I must disbelieve George.” “Why should you trouble about George? And, at any rate, though he did have those things, he’s decent enough in some ways. I’m pretty sure he would have burnt them himself after a while.” I’m afraid this speech did neither George nor myself any good. It simply made my father think me callous. I went out on the golf-links with Tony, and sat looking at the sea. I began to think of my father and of the failure of his life. This last incident seemed but to fit with all the others into its tragic grayness. And I reflected how for him I must compose a large part of that failure. Thinking of me could bring him little consolation, probably just the reverse. It was a pity. I doubtless was not, particularly from his point of view, much to boast of, but I was better than he thought me. I might be below the average in most things, but I was not below it in all.... And then my natural egotism rose once more to the surface. My mind turned to Katherine, and it seemed to me I was making a horrible mess of my whole existence. I got up and walked slowly back to the town. A wandering troupe of open-air entertainers had arrived during the day, and were busy erecting tents and hobby-horse machines in a large field not far from our house. Most of the natives, both young and old, were superintending these preparations with an unflagging interest which had already stretched over hours, but I was in no mood to join them. I determined to walk as far as the pier and then go home. I had not gone above a hundred yards when I felt my face burning. Before me, coming in my direction, were Katherine and Gerald. Nothing but a straight stretch of road and footpath lay between us, and it was certain that they must have already seen me. I would have liked to turn back, but my pride prevented such a step, and I walked on, my head up, a flaming blush on my face. Gerald and I raised our caps. My eyes sought Katherine’s, but her glance just brushed mine to rest on some distant point beyond me. The next moment we had passed. Hot tears rose to my eyes, but I walked as far as I had intended to. On the pier steps I sat down and put my arms round Tony’s broad back and kissed him. If I had committed the greatest crime on earth, I thought, he would have licked my cheek and pretended to bite my ear just as he did now.