I scarcely heard her. “WHAT did you say?” I demanded, addressing Cripps, who shrank back, rather alarmed apparently. “Why, you scoundrel! What do you mean by saying that? Speak up! What do you mean by it?” If Mr. Cripps was alarmed his wife was not. She stepped forward and faced me defiantly. “He means just what he says,” she declared, her shrill voice quivering with vindictive spite. “And you know what he means perfectly well. You ought to be ashamed of yourself, a man as old as you and she an innocent young girl! You've hypnotized her--that is what you've done, hypnotized her. All those ridiculous stories about her having no money she believes because you told them to her. She would believe the moon was made of green cheese if you said so. She's mad about you--the poor little fool! She won't hear a word against you--says you're the best, noblest man in the world! You! Why she won't even deny that she's in love with you; she was brazen enough to tell me she was proud of it. Oh.... Stop! Where are you going? Solomon, stop him!” Solomon did not stop me. I am very glad he didn't try. No one could have stopped me then. I was on my way back along the garden path, and if I did not keep to that path, but plunged ruthlessly through flower beds and shrubbery I did not care, nor do I care now. She was sitting on the rustic seat where I had left her. There were tears on her cheeks. She had heard me coming--a deaf person would have heard that--and she rose as I burst into view. “What is it?” she cried, in alarm. “Oh, what is it?” At the sight of her I paused. I had not meant to pause; I had intended to take her in my arms, to ask her if what I had just heard was true, to make her answer me. But now, as she stood there before me, so young, so girlish, so beautiful, the hopeless idiocy of the thing struck me with overwhelming force. It WAS idiocy. It couldn't be true. “What is it?” she repeated. “Oh, Kent! what is the matter? Why did you come back? What has happened?” I stepped forward. True or false I must know. I must know then and there. It was now or never for me. “Frances,” I stammered, “I came back because--I--I have just heard--Frances, you told me you loved someone--not Bayliss, but someone else. Who is that someone?” She had been pale. My sudden and unexpected appearance had frightened her. Now as we faced each other, as I stood looking down into her face, I saw the color rise and spread over that face from throat to brow. “Who is it?” I repeated. She drew back. “I--I can't tell you,” she faltered. “You mustn't ask me.” “But I do ask. You must tell me, Frances--Frances, it isn't--it can't be that you love ME. Do you?” She drew back still further. If there had been a way of escape I think she would have taken it. But there was none. The thick shrubbery was behind her and I was between her and the path. And I would not let her pass.