"Wellgood came back before they expected him. Harry met her--by chance, he says--after he'd left Vivien, and he was carried away, he says. Somehow or other--I don't quite understand how--Vivien came on the scene again. Then Wellgood was on to them, and had the whole thing out, before his daughter. It seems that he's in love with Miss Vintry himself--so I understood Harry. That, of course, didn't make him any kinder." "It's cruel, cruel, cruel!" "Yes, but do you remember a talk we had about it once?" "Yes. You thought this--this sort of thing would really be the best." "I was thinking of Miss Wellgood. Of course, for poor Harry--Wellgood's a dangerous enemy!" He paused a moment. "And the thing's so bad. He wasn't square with either of them, and they're both in love with him, I suppose!" "This woman here in love with him? Really? Not only for the match?" "I think so." "I'm sorry for her then. She'd much better not be! Oh, I daresay he'll marry her. How much will that mean with Harry Belfield?" Feeling in less danger of breaking her record, she loosed her hold of Andy's hand. He rose. "I must be off. I've a lot to do to-morrow. Gilly'll have to look after the office. I've got to see Mr. Belfield among other things; and Harry wants me to see Vivien Wellgood--and, well, try to say something for him." "Just like him! He breaks the pitcher and leaves you to sweep up the pieces!" "Well, he can't see her himself, can he?" "He'd make love to her again if he did. You may be sure of that!" The door opened, and Sally Dutton came in in her dressing-gown, with her pretty hair all about her shoulders. "She's asleep--sound asleep. So I--may I stay a few minutes with you, Doris? I--I've got the blues awfully badly." She came to the Nun and knelt down beside her. Suddenly she broke into a torrent of sobs. Andy heard her say through them, "Oh, it reminds me--!" Doris looked at him and nodded. "I shall see you soon in London, Andy?" He pressed her hand and left the two girls together. Gilly Foot was smoking a reflective pipe outside the door; he had possessed himself of the key and sent the sleepy "Boots" to bed. Andy obtained leave of absence for the morrow. "Rather a disturbed evening, eh, Andy?" said Gilly, smoking thoughtfully. "Lucky it didn't happen till we'd done supper! Fact is one doesn't like to say it of an old friend--but Harry Belfield's no good." Andy had a whimsical idea that at such a sentiment the stones of Meriton High Street would cry out. The pet and the pride of the town, the man of all accomplishments, the man who was to have that wonderful career--here he was being cavalierly and curtly dismissed as "no good." "Come, we must give him another chance," Andy urged. Gilly knocked out his pipe with an air of decision. "Rotten--rotten at the core, old boy, that's it," he said, as with a nod of good-night he entered the precincts of the Lion.