"Besides, you have always been eager to think the best of women. You've credited them, even with mental gifts that they haven't got! You have been over-loyal to them all your life! And now"--here Lady Dashwood put out her hand and laid it on his arm as if to compel him to agree--"and now you are suffering for it, or rather you have suffered. You thought you were doing your duty, that you ought to marry. You were right; you ought to marry, and I, just at that moment, thrust somebody forward who looked innocent and helpless. And how could you tell? Of course you couldn't tell," and now her voice dropped a little and she seemed suddenly to have become tired out, and she sank back on her pillows. The Warden leant over her. Her special pleading for him was so familiar to him. She had corrected his faults, admonished him when necessary, but had always upheld his self-respect, even in small matters. She was fighting now for the preservation of his sense of honour. "Anyhow, darling," she said, "you must forget!" "You are exhausted," he said, "in trying to make black white. I ought not to have come in and let you talk. Lena, what has happened this week has knocked you up. I know it, and even now you are worrying because of me. I will forget it, dear, if you will pick up again and get strong." "I am better already," she said, and the very faintest smile was on her face. "I am rather tired, but I shall be all right to-morrow. All I want is a good night's sleep. I want to sleep for hours, and I shall sleep for hours now that I have seen you." A knock came on the door. "They are looking for you, dear," said Lady Dashwood. The Warden slowly rose from his seat. "I must go now, Lena," he said, "but I shall come in again the last thing. I shall come in without knocking if I may, because I hope you will be asleep, and I don't want to wake you." "Very well," she said smiling. "You'll find me asleep. I feel so calm, so happy." He bent down and kissed her and then went to the door. She turned her head and looked after him. Louise was at the door. "Monsieur Bingham is arrived," she said; "I regret to have disturbed Monsieur." The Warden walked slowly down the corridor. There was something that he dreaded, something that was going to happen--the first meeting of the eyes--the first moment when May Dashwood would look at him, knowing all that had happened! He passed the table again on which lay his letters. He would look through all that pile of correspondence after Bingham had gone. Robinson was hovering at the stairhead. "Mr. Bingham is in the drawing-room, sir." "Alone?" asked the Warden. "Mrs. Dashwood is there, sir," said Robinson. "How have you arranged the table?" asked the Warden. "I've put Mrs. Dashwood close on your right, sir," said Robinson, secretly amazed at the question; "Mr. Bingham on your left, sir." "Yes," said the Warden. "Yes, of course!" passing his servant with an abstracted air.