Tony hesitated a moment--it struck Nigel that she was considering how far she ought to take him into her confidence. The thought humiliated him. "He did tell me," she said after a pause, "he told me everything, one night, nearly three weeks ago, just before your brother died. He suddenly came to Shovelstrode--very late, after we had all gone upstairs. He wanted to see me--and I came down ... oh, I shall never forget it! He was standing there, all white and tired--and very wet, as if he'd been lying in the grass. He tried to speak, but he couldn't--and I was frightened, like a silly ass, and I cried ... and then he told me all about himself--and this girl." "And you?..." She shuddered. "I--I told him he must go." "You told him to go!"--his voice had a hungry catch in it. "Yes--I was a beast." Anxiety and scorn strove together in him. "But you changed your mind." She nodded. "Tony!" "Well, why not?" "Because it's paltry and weak of you--he doesn't deserve your forgiveness--and you've no right to forgive him for what he did to another woman." "Do you think I haven't considered that other woman?" "You must have. But--egad!--you're so calm about it. Don't you realise what all this means--to her?" "You think I ought to make him marry her?" "Of course not--she wouldn't have him if she was paid. But--but how can _you_ marry him, Tony?" She bit her lip. "I'm sorry I put things so bluntly, but I'm always a blundering ass when I'm excited. Tony, you're not to marry this man." By her mounting colour he saw that he had said too much. "I beg your pardon--I know all this sounds like impertinent interference. But it isn't. I've been worrying about it a lot--about your marrying him. I felt you ought to know...." "Well, I do know--and I've forgiven him." "I'm not sure that isn't even worse than your not knowing." She stared at him in anger and surprise. "You say that!--you!--the man but for whom perhaps I never should have forgiven him." Nigel gasped. "What do you mean?" "Well, at first, as I told you, I felt I couldn't forgive him. But afterwards I remembered all you said." "_I_ said!" "Yes." "What?--When?" "Don't you remember that day you came over to Shovelstrode and said, 'You will have to forgive me a great many things because I am so very hungry'?" They had stopped again; the fields swelled round them, ghostly in the lemon twilight, and a wistful radiance glowed on Tony's face. He searched her eyes despairingly--he scarcely knew what for. The anger in them had died, and in its place was a beautiful serenity and kindliness. But that was not what he was looking for. His heart was full of hunger and tears, yet he did not hunger or cry for the woman who stood before him, but for the little girl he had known long months ago.