"To-morrow," he said lightly. "I would have given them to you to-night, Sybil. Silly child ever to sign things." Sybil's lip trembled; the snare was about her feet. A tall man pushed his way through the crowd, looking anxiously at the tables. He was covered with the dust of a long journey; he came quickly, staring at each group. "Oliver!" Sybil sprang to her feet, rushed across to him. "Oh, Captain Knox, why did you not come yesterday?" "I only got back to York this morning. I motored to London, and it took me hours to find your mother. Who is that--in the shadow?" "Captain Gore Helmsley." Sybil's voice grew shrill. "And Sybil is here with me," said Esmé, coming out of another shadow. "Take her for a walk before we start. I want to talk to my friend here." "Sybil--why did you write for me like that?" "I wanted you to save me, and you never came," she faltered. "But I am not too late. My God, not that!" Then, stumblingly, she told him her story of sorrow. "I was going to ask you to pay the debt for me," she said, "to get me clear. I dare not tell my mother or father." "I brought money, as you said you wanted it; and there is nothing more, Sybil?" he said, taking her hands. "Nothing. We spent the day here--waiting for Mrs Gore. And oh, I was afraid." "Mrs Gore is in London. I saw her as I was looking for your mother." "In London!" Sybil's cheeks grew very white. It had all been a lie. She would have dined at the small hotel, waiting for the woman who could never have joined them. And afterwards, alone with the man she feared and yet who influenced her. Sybil was no innocent fool; the blackness of the chasm she had just missed sliding into was plainly before her eyes. She flung herself suddenly into Knox's arms. "Oh, Oliver, if you want me still, take me," she sobbed, "for I am a fool, and not fit to look after myself. I don't mind being poor; I only want you." Captain Gore Helmsley, meanwhile, was listening to a few softly-uttered home-truths from Esmé Carteret. "You might have ruined the child's reputation," she said angrily. "She was a fool to come here with you. Married women are fair game, Jimmie, but a girl has not learnt how to guard. It's not fair." Sybil, with the frightened look gone from her eyes, came back to the table on the veranda. "I owe you some money, Captain Gore Helmsley," she said clearly, "for bridge debts. It was good of you to let it stand over." She laid a cheque on the table. "Will you give me back my acknowledgments? Oliver is paying for me--we are going to be married." Jimmie, smiling sweetly, pulled out his pocketbook, took from it a neatly-folded paper. "And--two letters--referring to the debt," said Sybil, steadily. "Not altogether to the debt." Jimmie laughed. "You are as unkind now, Miss Chauntsey, as you are dramatic." "I want them," she said coldly. "You gave me your promise that I should have them back." Jimmie took out the letters.