She did tell him in outline, stressing the fact of the misunderstanding all around, on the whole, dealing rather gently with Barbara, now that anger had gone out of her. “I had made rather a fool of myself you see,” she finished. He looked at her as if waiting for her to go on. “That’s all.” “I see. She--well--.” He let that pass. “Now ordinarily it is easy to say that gossip and slander don’t make any difference to a high minded person. I think you are high minded. I do feel however that she has made this incident a basis for a kind of slander that is dangerous. Her accusations against you are, from what I hear, absolutely libelous. It wouldn’t take ten minutes to shut her mouth if I could talk to her. But I want you to fully refute her specific attacks.” “I know. I imagine she might say almost anything.” “Well, then, you have never stayed at the Roadside Inn, have you?” To his amazement the face of the girl in front of him changed. She had been calm and half smiling. Now astonishment, consciousness, and something like panic showed in her eyes, her suddenly taut body. “Does she say that? How did she know?” There was a little moan of dismay in Freda’s answer. Gage’s face grew stern. He sat looking at the girl across from him, whose eyes were closed as if in pain. “To lay her hands on that,” said Freda, under her breath. “I don’t understand you,” said Gage rather curtly. She lifted her face. “It hurts to have any one know that--but for her to know it most of all.” “Such things are usually public knowledge sooner or later, my dear young lady. Clandestine--” “Don’t say that,” cried Freda, her voice rising, “don’t use that word.” And then as if some gate had been opened her words poured out. “Can’t you understand something being too beautiful to be anything except secret? It was something I couldn’t have let even those who love me know about. And to have her ugly devastating hands on it! It soils it. I feel her finger marks all over me. It was mine and she’s stolen it.” Her head went down on her arms on the desk in front of her. Gage watched her with curiosity, embarrassment and pity. To his mind this love affair was a shady business but she didn’t see it so. That was evident. Her abandonment touched a chord of sympathy in him. He knew how she was being rent by pain. “My dear girl,” he told her, more gently, “I’m afraid you’ve been very unwise.” “No--not unwise.” She raised her head and smiled unsteadily. “I’ve been quite wise. It’s just bad luck--that’s all.” “Could you tell me about it?”