"Yes. I must go and put things straight." "Good-bye. I--I hope you won't find it very hard." "I have been paid in advance." Neaera blushed a little. "You shall be better paid, if ever I can," she said. George paused outside, to light a cigarette; then he struck into the park, and walked slowly along, meditating as he went. When he arrived at Hyde Park Corner, he roused himself from his reverie. "Now the woman was very fair!" said he, as he hailed a hansom. CHAPTER XV. A LETTER FOR MR. GERALD. Mrs. Pocklington sat with blank amazement in her face, and a copy of the second edition of the _Bull's-eye_ in her hand. On the middle page, in type widely spaced, beneath a noble headline, appeared a letter from George Neston, running thus:-- "To the Editor of the _Bull's-eye_. "SIR, "As you have been good enough to interest yourself, and, I hope, fortunate enough to interest your readers, in the subject of certain allegations made by me in respect of a lady whose name has been mentioned in your columns, I have the honour to inform you that such allegations were entirely baseless, the result of a chance resemblance between that lady and another person, and of my own hasty conclusions drawn therefrom. I have withdrawn all my assertions, fully and unreservedly, and have addressed apologies for them to those who had a right to receive apologies. "I have the honour to be, sir, "Your obedient servant, "GEORGE NESTON." And then a column of exultation, satire, ridicule, preaching, praying, prophesying, moralising, and what not. The pen flew with wings of joy, and ink was nothing regarded on that day. Mrs. Pocklington was a kind-hearted woman; yet, when she read a sister's vindication, she found nothing better to say than-- "How very provoking!" And it may be that this unregenerate exclamation fairly summed up public feeling, if only public feeling had been indecent enough to show itself openly. A man shown to be a fool is altogether too common a spectacle; a woman of fashion proved a thief would have been a more piquant dish. But in this world--and, indeed, probably in any other--we must take what we can get; and since society could not trample on Neaera Witt, it consoled itself by correcting and chastening the misguided spirit of George Neston. Tommy Myles shook his empty little head, and all the other empty heads shook solemnly in time. Isabel Bourne said she knew she was right, and Sidmouth Vane thought there must be something behind--he always did, as became a statesman in the raw. Mr. Espion re-echoed his own leaders, like a phonograph; and the chairman of the Themis thanked Heaven they were out of an awkward job.