I could see her get up, cross the room, and sit down on the edge of Mildred's couch, where the two engaged in a whispered conversation. Jim Rossiter, too, got up and tiptoed his sleek, slim person out of the room. Cissie Boscobel followed him. They talked in low tones at the head of the stairs outside. I found voice at last: "No, Hugh; I never thought of marrying you for that reason. I was doing it only because it seemed to me right." Mr. Brokenshire emitted a sound, meant to be a laugh: "Right! Oh, my God!" Mrs. Brokenshire was now no more than a pale-rose shadow on the farther side of the room, but she came to my aid: "She was, Howard. Please believe her. She was, really!" "Thanks, darling, for the corroboration! It comes well from you. Where there's a question of right you're an authority." Mrs. Billing's hoarse, prolonged "Ha-a!" implied every shade of comprehension. I saw the pale-rose shadow sink down on a sofa, all in a little heap, like something shot with smokeless powder. Hugh was twisting my wrist again and whispering: "Alix, tell me. Speak! What are you marrying me for? What about the other fellow? Is it Strangways? Speak!" "I've given you the only answer I can, Hugh. If you can't believe in my doing right--" "What were you in such a hurry for? Was that the reason--what dad says--that you were afraid you wouldn't--hook me?" I looked him hard in the eye. Though we were speaking in the lowest possible tones, there was a sudden stillness in the room, as though every one was hanging on my answer. "Have I ever given you cause to suspect me of that?" I asked, after thinking of what I ought to say. Three words oozed themselves out like three drops of his own blood. They were the distillation of two years' uncertainty: "Well--sometimes--yes." Either he dropped my wrist or I released myself. I only remember that I was twisting the sapphire-and-diamond ring on my finger. "What made you think so?" I asked, dully. "A hundred things--everything!" He gave a great gasp. "Oh, little Alix!" Turning away suddenly, he leaned his head against the mantelpiece, while his shoulders heaved. It came to me that this was the moment to make an end of it all; but I saw Mrs. Rossiter get up from her conference with Mildred and come forward. She did it leisurely, pulling up one shoulder of her décolleté gown as she advanced. "Hugh, don't be a baby!" she said, in passing. "Father, you ought to be ashamed of yourself!" If the heavens had fallen my amazement might have been less. She went on in a purely colloquial tone, extricating the lace of her corsage from a spray of diamond flowers as she spoke: