“Jean is a dear girl, Judith,” she said earnestly. “I want you to be friends with her. Don’t”--pleadingly--“visit the sins of the fathers on the children.” “Why, no, I shouldn’t,” replied Mrs. Craig, with apparent frankness. “It was only that, for the moment, it was rather a shock to learn that she was--that woman’s--child.” “Of course it was,” acquiesced Lady Anne. “Good-bye, dear Judith.” But notwithstanding Mrs. Craig’s assurances, a troubled look lingered in Lady Anne’s grey eyes long after her guest’s departure. CHAPTER XII--A SENSE OF DUTY JEAN was immensely puzzled at the abrupt change which had occurred in Mrs. Craig’s manner immediately upon hearing that she was the daughter of Glyn Peterson, and, as soon as the visitor had taken her departure, she sought an explanation. “What on earth made Mrs. Craig freeze up the instant my father’s name was mentioned? Did she hate him for any reason?” Tormarin looked across at her. “No,” he answered quietly. “She didn’t hate him. She loved him.” Jean stared at him in frank astonishment. She had never dreamed that there had been any other woman than Jacqueline in Glyn’s life. “Mrs. Craig--and my father?” she exclaimed incredulously. “She wasn’t Mrs. Craig in those days. She was Judith Burke.” “Well, but----” persisted Jean, determined to get to the bottom of the mystery. “I still don’t see why.” “Why what?”--unwillingly. “Why she looked as if she loathed the very sight of me. That’s not”--drily--“quite the effect you would expect love to produce!” There was a curiously abstracted look in Tormarin’s eyes as he made answer. “Love is productive of very curious effects on occasion. More particularly when it is without hope of fulfilment,” he added in a lower tone. “Well, I suppose my father couldn’t help not falling in love with Mrs. Craig,” protested Jean with some warmth. “Nor could he have prevented her caring for him. And it’s certainly illogical of her to feel any resentment towards me on that score. _I_ had nothing to do with it.” “Love and logic have precious little to say to each other, as a rule,” replied Tormarin grimly. “To Judith, you’re the child of the woman who stole her lover away from her, so you can hardly expect her to feel an overwhelming affection for you.” “The woman who stole her lover away from her?” repeated Jean slowly. “I don’t understand. What do you mean, Blaise?” He glanced at her in some surprise. “Surely---- Don’t you know the circumstances?” She shook her head. “No. I simply don’t know in the least what you are talking about. Please tell me.” Tormarin made no response for a moment. He was standing with his back to the light, but as he lit a cigarette the flare of the match revealed a worried expression on his face, as though he deprecated the turn the conversation was taking.