Myra slipped her hand into his, which closed upon it with a strong unhesitating clasp. "Go on, Jim," she said, softly. "I went out into the hall, and saw your name in the visitors' book. The ink was still wet. The handwriting was that of the holiday-child--I should like to set you copies! The name surprised me--agreeably. I had expected to be able at once to place the woman who had walked up the path. It was a surprise and a relief to find that my Fairy-land Princess was not after all a fashionable beauty or a society leader, but owned just a simple Irish name, and lived at a Lodge." "Go on, Jim," said Lady Ingleby, rather tremulously. "Then the name 'Shenstone' interested me, because I know the Inglebys--at least, I knew Lord Ingleby, well; and I shall soon know Lady Ingleby. In fact I have written to-day asking for an interview. I must see her on business connected with notes of her husband's which, if she gives permission, are to be embodied in my book. I suppose if you live near Shenstone Park you know the Inglebys?" "Yes," said Myra. "But tell me, Jim; if--if you noticed so much that first day; if you were--interested; if you wanted to set me copies--yes, I know I write a shocking hand;--why would you never look at me? Why were you so stiff and unfriendly? Why were you not as nice to me as you were to Susie, for instance?" Jim Airth sat long in silence, staring out into the darkness. At last he said: "I want to tell you. Of course, I _must_ tell you. But--may I ask a few questions first?" Lady Ingleby also gazed unseeingly into the darkness; but she leaned a little nearer to the broad shoulder beside her. "Ask me what you will," she said. "There is nothing, in my whole life, I would not tell you, Jim Airth." Her cheek was so close to the rough Norfolk jacket, that if it had moved a shade nearer, she would have rested against it. But it did not move; only, the clasp on her hand tightened. "Were you married very young?" asked Jim Airth. "I was not quite eighteen. It is ten years ago." "Did you marry for love?" There was a long silence, while both looked steadily into the darkness. Then Myra answered, speaking very slowly. "To be quite honest, I think I married chiefly to escape from a very unhappy home. Also I was very young, and knew nothing--nothing of life, and nothing of love; and--how can I explain, Jim Airth?--I have not learnt much during these ten long years." "Have you been unhappy?" He asked the question very low. "Not exactly unhappy. My husband was a very good man; kind and patient, beyond words, towards me. But I often vaguely felt I was missing the Best in life. Now--I know I was." "How long have you been--How long has he been dead?" The deep voice was so tender, that the question could bring no pain. "Seven months," replied Lady Ingleby. "My husband was killed in the assault on Targai."