“Yes,” he said, “it is; because that’s a question you could answer for any one. I’ve only asked you if Miss Enderby is—all right.” This high-handed tone didn’t suit Lexy at all. He was actually presuming to be angry, and that made her angry. “I shan’t tell you anything at all,” she said, and began to walk on again. He put on his hat and turned away, but in a moment he was back at her side. “Look here!” he said. “Caroline told me you were her friend. She said you could be trusted. All right—I am trusting you. I’ve felt, all along, that there was—something wrong. I’ve got to know! If you’ll give me your word that she’s safe at home, I’ll clear out, and apologize for having made a first-class fool of myself; but if she’s not, I ought to know!” Lexy stopped again. Their eyes met in a long, steady glance. “I can’t answer any questions this morning,” she told him. “I promised I wouldn’t.” “Then there is something wrong!” the young man exclaimed. He was silent for a long time, staring at the ground, and Lexy waited, with a fast beating heart, for some word that would enlighten her. At last he looked up. “I’ve got to trust you,” he said simply. “Caroline meant to tell you, anyhow. You see”—he paused—“I’m Charles Houseman, the man she’s going to marry.” “Oh!” cried Lexy. “Now you’ll tell me, won’t you?” She stared and stared at him, filled with amazement and pity. Such a nice-looking, straightforward, manly sort of fellow—and such a look of pain and bewilderment in his blue eyes! “But—did she _say_ she would marry you?” “Of course she did! She—look here! You don’t know what I’ve been through. It was I who telephoned last night. I—” “But why did you? Oh, please tell me! I am Caroline’s friend—truly her friend. I want to understand!” “All right!” he said. “I telephoned because I was waiting for her, and she didn’t come.” “Waiting for—Caroline?” “We had arranged to get married last night. She was to meet me, but she didn’t come,” he said, a little unsteadily. “Perhaps she just changed her mind. Perhaps she doesn’t want to see me any more. If that’s the case, I’ll trust you not to mention anything about me—to any one. You see now, don’t you, that I—I had to know?” Lexy’s eyes filled with tears. Moved by a generous impulse, she held out her hand. “I’m so awfully sorry!” she cried. “Why? You mean—for God’s sake, tell me! You mean she has changed her mind?” “I can’t tell you—not now.” “You can’t leave it at that,” said he. He had taken her outstretched hand, and he held it tight. “I ought to know what has happened. I can’t believe that Caroline would let me down like that. She—she’s not that sort of girl. Something’s gone wrong. She wouldn’t leave me waiting and waiting there for her at Wyngate.” “Wyngate!” cried Lexy. “But that was—” She stopped abruptly. Caroline’s letter had been postmarked “Wyngate.” She had gone there to meet—some one. She had married—some one.