His mother turned sullenly away from him, and he left the room. * * * * * As he passed through the long oak-panelled hall that led to the garden, he was seized with an odd sense of pity for himself. This odious scene behind him, and now this wrestle with Letty that must be gone through--were these the joys of the honeymoon? Letty was not in the garden. But as he passed into the wood on the farther side of the hill he saw her sitting under a tree halfway down the slope, with some embroidery in her hand. The April sun was shining into the wood. A larch beyond Letty was already green, and the twigs of the oak beneath which she sat made a reddish glow in the bright air. Patches of primroses and anemones starred the ground about her, and trails of periwinkle touched her dress. She was stooping, and her little hand went rapidly--impatiently--to and fro. The contrast between this fresh youth amid the spring and that unlovely, reluctant age he had just left behind him in the smoking-room struck him sharply. His brow cleared. As she heard his step she looked round eagerly. "Well?" she said, pushing aside her work. He threw himself down beside her. "Darling, I have had my talk. It is pretty bad--worse than we had even imagined!" Then he told her his mother's story. She could hardly contain herself, as she listened, as he mentioned the total figure of the debts. It was evidently with difficulty that she prevented herself from interrupting him at every word. And when he had barely finished she broke out: "And what did you say?" George hesitated. "I told her, of course, that it was monstrous and absurd to expect that we could pay such a sum." Letty's breath came fast. His voice and manner did not satisfy her at all. "Monstrous? I should think it was! Do you know how she has run up this debt?" George looked at her in surprise. Her little face was quivering under the suppressed energy of what she was going to say. "No!--do you?" "Yes!--I know all about it. I said to my maid last night--I hope, George, you won't mind, but you know Grier has been an age with me, and knows all my secrets--I told her she must make friends with your mother's maid, and see what she could find out. I felt we _must_, in self-defence. And of course Grier got it all out of Justine. I knew she would! Justine is a little fool; and she doesn't mean to stay much longer with Lady Tressady, so she didn't mind speaking. It is exactly as I supposed! Lady Tressady didn't begin speculating for herself at all--but for--somebody--else! Do you remember that absurd-looking singer who gave a 'musical sketch' one day that your mother gave a party in Eccleston Square--in February?" She looked at him with eagerness, an ugly, half-shrinking innuendo in her expression. George had suddenly moved away, and was sitting now some little distance from his wife, his eyes bent on the ground. However, at her question he made a sign of assent.