“Splendid! What a clever little brain!” He shut his eyes. “I married Miss Joan Meredyth on the first of June, or was it the second, in the year nineteen hundred and eighteen? We lived a cat-and-dog existence, and parted with mutual recriminations, since when I have not seen her! Marjorie, do you think she will swallow it?” “If you tell her; but, Hugh, will you—will you?” “Little girl, is it going to help you?” “You know it is!” she whispered. “Then I shall tell her!” Marjorie lifted a pair of soft arms and put them about his neck. “Hugh!” she said, “Hugh, if—if I had never known Tom, I—” “I know,” he said. “I know. God bless you.” He stooped and kissed her on the cheek, and rose. It was a mad thing this that he was to do, yet he never considered its madness, its folly. It would help her, and Hurst Dormer would never know its golden-haired mistress, after all. CHAPTER II IN WHICH HUGH BREAKS THE NEWS Lady Linden had just come in from one of her usual and numerous inspections, during which she had found it necessary to reprove one of the under-gardeners. She had described him to himself, his character, his appearance and his methods from her own point of view, and had left the man stupefied and amazed at the extent of her vocabulary and her facility of expression. He was still scratching his head, dazedly, when she came into the drawing-room. “Hugh, you here? Where is Marjorie?” “Down by the pond, I think,” he said, with an attempt at airiness. “In a moment you will make me angry. You know what I wish to know. Did you propose to Marjorie, Hugh?” “Did I—” He seemed astonished. “Did I what?” “Propose to Marjorie! Good heavens, man, isn’t that why I sent you there?” “I certainly did not propose to her. How on earth could I?” “There is no reason on earth why you should not have proposed to her that I can see.” “But there is one that I can see.” He paused. “A man can’t invite a young woman to marry him—when he is already married!” It was out! He scarcely dared to look at her. Lady Linden said nothing; she sat down. “Hugh!” She had found breath and words at last. “Hugh Alston! Did I hear you aright?” “I believe you did!” “You mean to tell me that you—you are a married man?” He nodded. He realised that he was not a good liar. “I would like some particulars,” she said coldly. “Hugh Alston, I should be very interested to know where she is!” “I don’t know!” “You are mad. When were you married?” “June nineteen eighteen,” he said glibly. “Where?” “At Marlbury!” “Good gracious! That is where Marjorie used to go to school!” “Yes, it was when I went down to see her there, and—” “You met this woman you married? And her name?” “Joan,” he said—“Joan Meredyth!” “Joan—Meredyth!” said Lady Linden. She closed her eyes; she leaned back in her chair. “That girl!”