"Never mind our interests," cried Kitty. "What about Mr. Vane?" For the third time since his arrival, Carroll made the strongest appeal he could to womanly pity, drawing with a purpose a vivid picture of his comrade's peril and suffering. Nor was he disappointed, for he saw consternation, compassion, and sympathy in the girls' faces. So far, the thing had been easy, but now he hesitated, and it was with difficulty he nerved himself for what must follow. "He has been beaten out of his stock in the mine; he's broken down in health and in danger; but, by comparison, that doesn't count for very much with him," he continued. "He has another trouble, and though I'm afraid I'm giving things away in mentioning it, if it could be got over, it would help him to face the future and set him on his feet again." Then he briefly recounted the story of Vane's regard for Evelyn, making the most of his sacrifice in withdrawing from the field, and again he realised that he had acted wisely. A love affair appealed to his listeners, and there was a romance in this one that heightened the effect of it. "But Miss Chisholm can't mean to turn from him now," said Celia. Carroll looked at her meaningly. "No; she turned from him before he sailed. She heard something about him." His companions appeared astonished. "But she couldn't have heard anything that anybody could mind," Kitty exclaimed indignantly. "He's not that kind of man." "It's a compliment," said Carroll. "I think he deserves it. At the same time, he's a little rash, and now and then a man's generosity is open to misconception. In this case, I don't think one could altogether blame Miss Chisholm." Kitty glanced at him sharply and then at Celia, who at first looked puzzled and afterwards startled. Then the blood surged into Kitty's cheeks. "Oh!" she said, as if she were breathless, "I was once afraid of something like this. You mean we're the cause of it?" The course he followed was hateful to Carroll, but the tangle could not be straightened without somebody's feelings being hurt, and it was his comrade he was most concerned about. "Yes," he said quietly; "I believe you understand the situation." He saw the fire in Kitty's eyes and that Celia's face was also flushed, but he did not think their anger was directed against him. They knew the world they lived in, and, for that matter, he could share their indignation. He resented the fact that a little thing should bring such swift suspicion upon them. He was, however, not required to face any disconcerting climax. "Well," said Celia, "why did you tell us this?" "I think you both owe Vane something, and you can do him a great favour now," Carroll informed her. Kitty looked up at him. "Don't ask me too much, Mr. Carroll. I'm Irish, and I feel like killing somebody."