The question was a sneer, but it was there, all the same; she had had to ask it. And now her whole being hung trembling on the answer, though she was no less grimly resolved than before to have done with a man whom she could not trust. But now he did not reply; and that burning urge of curiosity made Caroline go on--against better judgment, intention, pride: "Does she know?" He released Caroline's arm at once and walked on. "Let us leave her out of the discussion," he said stiffly. "I was just about to tell you that our engagement is broken off." But Caroline could not understand--any more than the majority of women--the feeling which makes a decent man reluctant to discuss an old love with a new one, and she was now easily able to speak as coldly as she wished. "I've heard that piece of news," she said. He turned sharp round. "Why, who told you? It only happened last night." "Miss Laura told me," she answered. "What more did she tell you?" he asked quickly. "Nothing." He looked away from her to the sea without replying, and this was her chance to walk away, if she had wished; but there was still that question which she must have answered. "Has Miss Laura heard anything about us? Was that why the engagement was broken off?" He waited a moment. "No," he said. "After all, you have a right to know that you had nothing to do with it. Nothing. She had never heard a word about you and me until I told her myself; and that was after our engagement was broken off." "Then why did you----?" She paused, so filled with all sorts of conflicting desires and emotions--longing to know, and yet passionately telling herself it didn't matter to her--that she had lost all certainty in herself, and her voice came sharp and tremulous. "She simply threw me over," he said at last. "Found out she didn't like the idea of married life, though she was very fond of me. I suppose there are women like that in every civilized community. No doubt if she were a Roman Catholic she would be a nun, and she would be a good one. She's good all through. I realize that, in spite of what has happened." Caroline looked at him as he faced the sea in the strong light--at his heavy features, his broadly set figure, his whole air of knowledge and virility and strength. Then the words fluttered up into her throat without any volition of her own: "Oh, you well may think her good! You well may!" For in that moment she guessed what Laura had come to tell her but had not been able to say after all. That heavenly kindness of Laura's was actually deep enough and real enough to make her spare her lover the knowledge of how he had wounded her. It was clear enough that she--who always seemed so easy and simple--had detected the first little change in him when he became attracted to Caroline. So she had put off her wedding to make sure, and she had become sure.