"Well," she said with half a laugh, "you have been good and given me time to recover. It's heavy odds, you see, and--and I have not been trained for it, exactly. But I feel better. Shall we go back and face them?" "One moment, again!" Mrs. Harry's kindly face hung out signals of distress. "It's heavy odds, as you say. Everything's against you. But the Lord knows I'm a well-meaning woman, and I'd hate to be unjust. If only I could be sure--if only you would tell me--" Ruth stood still and faced her. "Look in my eyes." Mrs. Harry looked and was convinced. "But you love him," she murmured; "and he--" "Ah, ma'am," said Ruth, "I answer you one question, and you would ask me another!" Chapter XII. LADY CAROLINE. She walked back to the verandah. "I understand," she said, "that Lady Caroline wishes a word with me." With a slight bow she led the way through a low window that opened upon the Corderys' best parlour, through that apartment, and across a passage to the door of a smaller room lined with shelves--formerly a stillroom or store-chamber for home-made wines, cordials, preserves, but now converted into a boudoir for her use. Its one window looked out upon the farmyard, now in shadow, and a farther doorway led to the dairy. It stood open, and beyond it the eye travelled down a vista of cool slate flags and polished cream-pans. On the threshold Ruth stood aside to let Lady Caroline enter; followed, and closed the door; stepped across and closed the door of the dairy. Lady Caroline meanwhile found a seat, and, lifting her eyeglass, studied at long range the library disposed upon the store shelves. "We had best be quite frank," said she, as Ruth came back and stood before her. "If you please." "Of course it is all very scandalous and--er--nauseating, though I dare say you are unable to see it in that light. I merely mention it in justice to myself, lest you should mistake me as underrating or even condoning Sir Oliver's conduct. You will guess, at any rate, how it must shock my daughter." "Yes," said Ruth; and added, "Why did you bring her?" The girl's attitude--erect before her, patient, but unflinching--had already gone some way to discompose Lady Caroline. This straight question fairly disconcerted her; the worse because she could not quarrel with the tone of it. "I wish," she answered, "my Diana to face the facts of life, ugly though they may be." As if aware that this hardly carried conviction--for, despite herself, something in Ruth began to impress her--she shifted ground and went on, "But we will not discuss my daughter, please. The point is, this state of things cannot continue. It may be hard for you--I am trying to take your view of it--but what may pass in a young man of blood cannot be permitted when he succeeds to a title and the-- er--headship of his family. It becomes then his duty to give that family clean heirs. I put it plainly?" Ruth bent her head for assent.