"Forgive you? Of course," I answered; and with politeness which I confess was feigned, I invited her to be seated. True to the promise made to her husband, she had lost no time in coming to see me, but I was fortunately well aware of the purport of her errand. "I had no idea you were in London," I said, by way of allowing her to explain the object of her visit, for, in the light of the knowledge I had gained on the Nene bank two nights previously, her call was of considerable interest. "I'm only up for a couple of days," she answered. "London has not the charm for me that it used to have," and she sighed heavily, as though her mind were crowded by bitter memories. Then raising her veil, and revealing her pale, handsome face, she said bluntly, "The reason of my call is to talk to you about Ethelwynn." "Well, what of her?" I asked, looking straight into her face and noticing for the first time a curious shifty look in her eyes, such as I had never before noticed in her. She tried to remain calm, but, by the nervous twitching of her fingers and lower lip, I knew that within her was concealed a tempest of conflicting emotions. "To speak quite frankly, Ralph," she said in a calm, serious voice, "I don't think you are treating her honourably, poor girl. You seem to have forsaken her altogether, and the neglect has broken her heart." "No, Mrs. Courtenay; you misunderstand the situation," I protested. "That I have neglected her slightly I admit; nevertheless the neglect was not wilful, but owing to my constant occupation in my practice." "She's desperate. Besides, it's common talk that you've broken off the engagement." "Gossip does not affect me; therefore why should she take any heed of it?" "Well, she loves you. That you know quite well. You surely could not have been deceived in those days at Kew, for her devotion to you was absolute and complete." She was pleading her sister's cause just as Courtenay had directed her. I felt annoyed that she should thus endeavour to impose upon me, yet saw the folly of betraying the fact that I knew her secret. My intention was to wait and watch. "I called at the Hennikers' a couple of days ago, but Ethelwynn is no longer there. She's gone into the country, it seems," I remarked. "Where to?" she asked quickly. "She's visiting someone near Hereford." "Oh!" she exclaimed, as though a sudden light dawned upon her. "I know, then. Why, I wonder, did she not tell me. I intended to call on her this evening, but it is useless. I'm glad to know, for I don't care much for Mrs. Henniker. She's such a very shallow woman." "Ethelwynn seems to have wandered about a good deal since the sad affair at Kew," I observed. "Yes, and so have I," she responded. "As you are well aware, the blow was such a terrible one to me that--that somehow I feel I shall never get over it--never!" I saw tears, genuine tears, welling in her eyes. If she could betray emotion in that manner she was surely a wonderful actress.