But when she was found out, and by a man, surely common sense ought to have suggested to her that confession was the only safe course! If she had told him simply that she wore a disguise in the course of her professional pursuits, and had begged him to keep her little secret, she might have been sure of his delighted acquiescence, and of his satisfaction in the thought that he knew something about her which she wished to keep unknown to the world in general. Considering the high level of her intelligence, Gerard was greatly surprised and disturbed at her obstinacy. But he told himself that she would certainly be more open on the following day, and that she would tell him, if not all the truth, at least enough to endeavor to engage his loyalty in keeping her secret. Yet in spite of these reflections, Gerard felt that there was still something ugly about what he had seen. That passing of the flashing stone to an unknown man, and then the prompt disappearance of the two persons! What was he to think of that? What would she say when he told her, pointblank, as he meant to do, that that was what he saw? There was all the time underlying his admiration for this beautiful, spirited girl, a sickening horror of what might be in store for him when he should learn all the truth. It was not, could not be possible that she was a common thief, that the money she earned was made by practices of absolute dishonesty. And yet, the longer he lingered upon the circumstances, the more he thought about that interview with Rachel that afternoon, the more he wondered whether there was something horrible, something dishonorable about the whole affair. That she was not a designer or artist he was by this time quite sure: every circumstance confirmed him in his opinion. No artist worthy the name can live long without a pencil in his hand; yet no one appeared ever to have seen her at this mysterious work which brought in eight hundred a year! That notion then he took to be disposed of. He had suggested to her that she was a journalist, and if she had been one, common sense would have made her confess at once and add that she did not wish the fact generally known. What then was left? She could not possibly be on the stage without the knowledge and consent of either Lady Jennings or her mother. What other calling was open to her? She had herself bewailed the fact that women can do so little, and that so few callings were really open to them. Yet here was she, admittedly without training in any direction, making what must be a good income. Gerard tormented himself all that day and the next by these and similar thoughts, all leading in the same unpleasant and unwelcome direction.