It was all done at length--the long explanation was made in the West End doctor's drawing-room, and at length Beth seemed to understand the complicated story that was told her. She listened very carefully, her questions were well chosen; then she flung herself face downwards on the couch where she was seated and burst into a passion of weeping. Vera held her head tenderly, and made a sign to Venner that he should leave them together. "This is the best thing that could happen," she whispered. "If you will come back in an hour's time you will see an entirely different girl. Don't speak to her now." It was exactly as Vera had predicted, for when Venner returned presently to the drawing-room, he found a bright, alert little figure clad in furs and eager for her journey. She danced across the room to Venner and held up her lips for him to kiss them. "I understand it all now," she cried. "Vera has told me absolutely everything. How good and noble it was of her to sacrifice her happiness for the sake of Charles and myself, and how wicked I must have been ever to think that Charles could have been guilty of that dreadful crime. Ever since then there has been a kind of cloud over my mind, a certain sense of oppression that made everything dim before my eyes. I could not feel, I could not even shed a tear. I seemed to be all numb and frozen, and when the tears came just now, all the ice melted away and I became myself again. Don't you think I look quite different?" "I think you look as if you would be all the better for a lot of care and fussing," Venner said. "You want to go to some warm spot and be petted like a child. Now let us go and say good-bye to these good friends of yours and get down to Canterbury. There is somebody waiting for you there who will bring back the roses to your pale cheeks a great deal better than I can." "Isn't Mr. Gurdon coming with us?" Vera asked. "He can't" Venner explained. "I've just been telephoning to him, and he says that he can't come down till the last train. He will just look in presently after dinner--he is sharing my rooms with me. But hadn't we better get along?" Canterbury was reached at length, and then Merton Grange, where Le Fenu and Evors were waiting in the portico. Lord Merton had not yet arrived: indeed, Evors explained that it was very uncertain whether he would get there that night or not. "Not that it makes much difference," he said, eagerly. "Of course, you will all dine with me. For my part, I can't see why you shouldn't stay here altogether." "What?" Vera cried, "without a chaperon?" "I like that," Le Fenu exclaimed. "What do you call yourself? Have you so soon forgotten the fact that you are a staid married woman? What do you think of that, Venner?"