“Confession?” Mr. Vyner nodded with sad acquiescence. “I deceived you grossly the other day,” he said, “and it has been worrying me ever since.” “It doesn’t matter,” said Joan, with a lively suspicion of his meaning. “Pardon me,” said Mr. Vyner, with solemn politeness, “if I say that it does. I—I lied to you, and I have been miserable ever since.” Joan waited in indignant silence. “I told you that I was married,” said Mr. Vyner, in thrilling tones. “I am not.” Miss Hartley, who had seated herself, rose suddenly with a fair show of temper. “You said you were not going to talk nonsense!” she exclaimed. “I am not,” said the other, in surprise. “I am owning to a fault, making a clean breast of my sins, not without a faint hope that I am setting an example that will be beautifully and bountifully followed.” “I have really got too much to do to stay here listening to nonsense,” said Miss Hartley, vigorously. “I am a proud man,” resumed Mr. Vyner, “and what it has cost me to make this confession tongue cannot tell; but it is made, and I now, in perfect confidence—almost perfect confidence—await yours.” “I don’t understand you,” said Joan, pausing, with her hand on the door. “Having repudiated my dear wife,” said Mr. Vyner, sternly, “I now ask, nay, demand, that you repudiate Captain Trimblett—and all his works,” he added, as ear-splitting screams sounded from outside. “I wish——” began Joan, in a low voice. “Yes?” said Robert, tenderly. “That you would go.” Mr. Vyner started, and half rose to his feet. Then he thought better of it. “I thought at first that you meant it,” he said, with a slight laugh. “I do mean it,” said Joan, breathing quickly. Robert rose at once. “I am very sorry,” he said, with grave concern. “I did not think that you were taking my foolishness seriously.” “I ought to be amused, I know,” said Joan, bitterly. “I ought to be humbly grateful to your father for having those children sent here. I ought to be flattered to think that he should remember my existence and make plans for my future.” “He—he believes that you are married to Captain Trimblett,” said Robert. “Fortunately for us,” said Joan, dryly. “Do you mean,” said Robert, regarding her fixedly, “that my father arranged that marriage?” Joan bit her lip. “No,” she said at last. “He had something to do with it,” persisted Robert. “What was it?” Joan shook her head. “Well, I’ll ask him about it,” said Mr. Vyner. “Please don’t,” said the girl. “It is my business.” “You have said so much,” said Robert, “that you had better say more. That’s what comes of losing your temper. Sit down and tell me all about it, please.” Joan shook her head again. “You are not angry with me?” said Mr. Vyner. “No.”