His hand touched one of the filled glasses; he raised it high and looked at it with a fierce craving in his eyes; then slowly very slowly, without taking his eyes from it, he put it down. She had watched him in silence, wondering; but he continued in his light, bantering tone. “As I was saying, it’s all my fault. I’m guilty on all counts of the indictment. You were a perfectly helpless woman in the hands of a monster. I’m sorry, Addie; I’m just as penitent as can be; and I’m going to get you out of the scrape as fast as I can. I’ll take the whole burden of it--explanations, lies, everything! Now be a good girl, won’t you, and don’t let everybody know you’re angry--though you _are_ charming when you’re ruffled.” He had persuaded her to a more amiable humour when Miss Morley returned, and she met the girl and led her to the fire with solicitous murmurs. “We can go at once now, Wayne, can’t we?” “The car awaits your pleasure, ladies!” “But please don’t trouble about me,” cried Jean. “It’s only a little way to Rosedale Heights and I can take the train there and be home in half an hour.” “We can’t allow it! It’s a long walk to the station and we have the big motor with lots of room and to spare.” “It was the oddest chance that brought us here,” Mrs. Craighill went on to say, as she held the girl’s cloak. “Mr. Craighill had taken me to call on some friends who are spending the winter at their farm beyond here. It was later than I thought when we started and we ran in here to telephone home that we should be late for dinner.” It was a sufficient explanation, blithely uttered; Wayne, bringing his stepmother’s things to the fire, hoped she would not protest too much. The matter of the whiskey bottle, for one thing, was a part of the _res gestæ_ which it seemed best to leave to the mercy of the trial judge.