"Did you think I was talking just weather with your husband all that first harrowing day and evening? In the car? In the bungalow? Oh, no--not weather!" she exclaimed. "Not even just the 'May Girl,' as you call her, but--everything! Your husband discovered it that first morning in the car," she annotated hurriedly. "I dropped my watch. It had a picture in it. A picture of May taken last year. Dr. Brawne sent it to me." "Yes, but Dr. Brawne?" I puzzled. "Oh, I knew that May was to be married," she frowned. "And to a man a good deal older than herself. Dr. Brawne wrote me that. But what he quite neglected to mention,--" once again the frown deepened, "was that the old man was himself. I like Dr. Brawne. He is a very brilliant man. But I certainly do not approve of him as my daughter's husband. There are reasons. One need not go into them now," she acknowledged. "At least they do not specially concern his age. My daughter would hardly be happy with a boy I think. Boys do not usually like simplicity. It takes a mature man to appreciate simplicity." "Yes, but the discovery?" I fretted. "Your own discovery?--Just when?" "In the train of course, coming down that first night!" cried Ann Woltor. "I thought I should go mad. I thought at every station I would jump off. And then Rollins's bungling remark the next day about my tooth gave me the chance, as I supposed, to get away. Except for that awkward accident to my watch I should have gotten away. Your husband implored me for my own sake, for everyone's sake, to stop and consider. There was so much to consider. I had all my proofs with me, my letters, my papers, my marriage certificate. We went to the Bungalow. We thrashed it all out. I was still mad to get away. I had no other wish in the world except to get away! Your husband persuaded me that my duty was here--to watch my girl--to get acquainted with my girl--before I even so much as attempted meeting my other problems. I was very rattled. I left my broken watch in the bungalow! The picture was still in it! That's why I went back! I wasn't sure eyen then that I would disclose my identity even to my daughter! For that reason alone I made your husband promise that he would not betray my secret even to you. If I decided to tell all right. But I wished no such decision forced upon me!" "Oh, Ann, Ann dear," I cried, "don't tell me any more, you've suffered enough. Just Rollins's bungling alone--the impudence of him----!" "Rollins?--Rollins?" intercepted that pestiferous gentleman's voice suddenly. "Do I hear my name bandied by festive voices?" In another moment the Pest himself stood beside us. My Husband is by no means a swearing man, but I distinctly heard from his unwonted lips at that moment a muttered blasphemy that would make a stevedore blush for shame. Despite all her terrible stress and strain Ann Woltor smiled--actually smiled.