Tony did it, and then stood beside her while she toyed with her cup. Lucy Davidson was distinctly pretty in spite of her get up, but it was unpleasantly evident to her companion that she was not the girl he had flirted with. She seemed to have changed into a capable, determined woman, and there was something that suggested imperiousness in her dark eyes when she looked up at him. “I want to know why you brought me here,” he said. The girl laughed. “That wasn’t civil, Tony. You should have let me think you came because you wanted to.” “I didn’t,” said Tony doggedly. “Nor can I stay here long. Don’t you know that some of these people might recognize you?” “I don’t see why that should worry me, though I don’t think they will. They are Darsley folk, and I fancy I have changed. You are going to be married I hear!” Tony set his lips as he saw the mocking smile in his companion’s face. “Yes,” he said. “We may as well talk plainly. You know of no reason why I shouldn’t.” Lucy Davidson made a little reproachful gesture. “Tony,” she said, “have I objected?” “No. The question is, do you mean to?” “That depends. I really don’t want to cause you trouble. You see, I was fond of you once, Tony—and would you like me to tell you that I am still?” Tony stood rigidly still with the blood in his forehead until the girl laughed. “You needn’t meet trouble before it comes,” she said. “I only wanted to see you.” Again there was silence, until Tony, who felt he must say something, broke it. “Where have you been since you left Northrop?” he asked. “In London. Music‐hall stage. I took there, and was in Melbourne, too. Just now I’m resting a little, and only came down here out of curiosity.” “Still,” and Tony’s voice trembled a little, “you will have heard—” “Sit down,” said the girl almost sharply. “I want to talk to you. Yes, I heard in Melbourne. I read it all in a Darsley paper, and thought what fools the folks were to blame Mr. Appleby.” Tony gasped. “It is a painful thing to talk about, and I don’t want to distress you, but—” Lucy Davidson looked at him steadily. “What I felt about it doesn’t concern anybody but myself. I told you they were fools, Tony. You and I know who it was that circumstances really pointed to.” Tony’s cheeks turned a trifle gray, but this time he met her gaze. “Listen to me, Lucy. On my word of honor I had no hand in what happened,” he said. “The solemn truth is that your father had an altercation with Appleby, and afterwards fell over the bridge.” The girl’s eyes flashed, and she slowly straightened herself. “It is fortunate for you that I can take your word, because I had formed my own conclusions,” she said. “Don’t suppose I should sit here talking to you if I had thought you were guilty. This, however, is quite between ourselves.” There was a significance in the last words which was not lost upon the man. “Well,” he said slowly, “we come back to the point again. What do you want from me?”