She looked at him squarely, the direct gaze of her clear, dark eyes in striking contrast with his close-lidded, shifting glance. He went on: "I think that you and the new preacher are going too far and it had better stop now." "Just what do you mean, Jack? What do you accuse me of, exactly?" From the very beginning of their friendship he had always writhed under the directness of her mental processes. He was ever for evasion, indirection; she for frank, open dealing in all things. He tried to retreat. "I'm not accusing you of anything." "No, but of _something_," she replied with a faint smile. "What is it?" "There's a lot of talk about town--about you and Hartigan. It makes me a laughing stock. If we weren't engaged----" Belle interrupted: "That's just what I want to speak about. I've been wanting to have a frank talk with you for some time, Jack, and we may as well have it now. "I have always liked you and you have been awfully attentive and helpful to me. I thought I was in love with you, but you know that when we had our talk a year ago, I begged you not to make an announcement and when you insisted on telling a few friends it was agreed that I was to have a year to decide finally. That was why I never wore your ring." She drew a box from her breast and held it out to him. "We have both made a mistake, Jack. I made the worst one when I allowed you to over-persuade me a year ago; but we are not going to spoil two lives by going on with it." Lowe's mind was not of particularly fine calibre. For some months, whenever he faced the truth, he had realized that he would never marry Belle. He was fond of her to the extent possible in a nature such as his and he was keenly alive to the financial advantage of becoming Boyd's son-in-law. His past history would not bear close inspection and latterly some of his youthful vices had come to light and to life. He knew only too well what a marriage into the Boyd family would do for his fortunes, financially and socially, and a dull rage of several weeks' nursing burned in him against Hartigan. As he took his hat to depart he was foolish enough to speak what was in his mind. He uttered a silly attack on the Preacher. It moved Belle and brought the colour to her face. His bitter comments on their own relations had not called forth any response from her, but this shaft went home, as he meant it should. She controlled herself and merely remarked: "I would not say that; it might get to his ears." And so he departed. * * * * * It was on that same afternoon that Hartigan had a new and, to him, terrifying experience in the dangerous world of the emotions.