She had ample time for these and other thoughts while Ormsby crossed to a corner cupboard, from a decanter in which he poured out a "Thimbleful" of neat spirits and drank it off, wondering to himself meanwhile how much longer his unwelcome visitor was going to intrude her presence upon him. But Mrs. Jenwyn had not done with him. "Sit down in that chair, Mr. Ormsby," she said, as he turned from the cupboard, speaking in a tone so peremptory that he could not repress a start. After staring at her for a second or two, he did as he was told. It was not the chair he had occupied before, but one drawn up close to the narrow table on the opposite side of which she was seated. Leaning forward, with her arms resting on the table, and her face within a yard of his, she said: "Listen, Guy Ormsby. I have something to say to you, the telling of which you have brought on yourself by your own persistent folly." Then, after a backward glance, as if to assure herself that the door was really shut, with lowered voice, and eyes which compelled his to confront them whether they would or no, she went on to speak to him for the next five minutes without a break or ever hesitating for a word. It was evident that she spoke from a heart fully charged, and while her utterance was so impressive, that which she had to tell him was of a nature so singular that when she had come to an end Guy might be excused if for a few seconds he felt rather uncertain whether he was standing on his head or his heels. Various emotions had chased themselves across his face during the telling--simple surprise deepening into wide eyed amazement, and lurking incredulity ripening into a conviction of the truth of what he was being told, which for a little space left his cheeks nearly as bloodless as those of the woman opposite him, whose cold, incisive tones seemed to cut into his consciousness like a surgeon's knife. Presently he drew a long, deep breath, like that of a person coming round after an operation. Then, in a voice as guarded as Mrs. Jenwyn's own, he said: "And you are prepared to swear that what you have just told me is the truth?" "I swear it before Heaven!" A brief space of silence ensued, which Mrs. Jenwyn was the first to break. "And now, Mr. Ormsby, may I ask whether you are still in the same mind with regard to Miss Drelincourt? Are you still as firmly determined as before to persist in your suit?" "No, that I am not," responded Guy, with some emphasis. "What I have just learned has put that notion wholly out of the question. I'm sorry for poor dear Anna that matters have gone so far between us; but what can I do, Mrs. Jenwyn? Tell me that. It's not altogether my fault--now, is it?--that things have come to the pass they have."