She suddenly put her arms round him and kissed him passionately. "We _will_ begin again, Kenneth," she said eagerly. "We _will_ be happy again, won't we? Oh yes, I know _we_ will. When we get to Seacliffe we'll have a second honeymoon together, what do you think, darling?" "Rather," he replied, with simulated enthusiasm. In reality he felt sick--physically sick. Something in the word "honeymoon" set his nerves on edge. Poor little darling Helen--why on earth had he ever married such a creature? They would never be happy together, he was quite certain of that. And yet ... well, anyway, they had to make the best of it. He smiled at her and returned her kisses, and then suggested packing the trunk in readiness for the morning. CHAPTER SIX I In the morning there arrived a letter from Clare. He guessed it from the postmark, and was glad that she had the tact to type the address on the envelope. When he tore it open he saw that the letter was also typewritten, and signed merely "C. H.", so that he was able to read it at the breakfast-table without any fears of Helen guessing. It was a curious sensation, that of reading a letter from Clare with Helen so near to him, and so unsuspecting. It ran:-- "DEAR KENNETH SPEED--As I told you last night I feel thoroughly disgusted with myself--I knew I should. I'm very sorry I acted as I did, though of course everything I said was true. If you take my advice you'll take Helen right away and never come near Millstead any more. Begin life with her afresh, and don't expect it to be too easy. As for me--you'd better forget if you can. We mustn't ever see each other again, and I think we had better not write, either. I really mean that and I hope you won't send me any awfully pathetic reply as it will only make things more awkward than they are. There was a time when you thought I was hard-hearted; you must try and think so again, because I really don't want to have anything more to do with you. It sounds brutal, but it isn't, really. You have still time to make your life a success, and the only way to do it in the present circumstances is to keep away from my evil influence. So good-bye and good luck. Yours--C.H."--"P.S. If you ever do return to Millstead you won't find me there." He was so furious that he tore the letter up and flung it into the fire. "What is it?" enquired Helen. He forced himself to reply: "Oh, only a tradesman's letter." She answered, with vague sympathy: "Everybody's being perfectly horrid, aren't they?" "Oh, I don't care," he replied, shrugging his shoulders and eating vigorously. "I don't care a damn for the lot of them." She looked at him in thoughtful silence.