Yet Molly, torn with remorse over what was irrevocable, did a most outrageous thing. "Charlie!" she cried, with a deep ringing passion that would not be suppressed. "Why have I been deceived like this? Why didn't you tell me? How could you let me imagine anything so false?" She flung out her other hand to him and he took it; but still he laughed. "Oh, come, Molly!" he protested. "I did tell you, you know. I told you the day after it happened. Don't you remember? I had to account for the skirt." She wrenched her hands away from him. The thrill of laughter in his voice seemed to jar all her nerves. She was, moreover, wearied with the emotions of the day. "Oh, don't you see," she cried passionately, "how different it might have been? If you had told me--if you had made me understand! I could have cared--I did care--only you seemed to me--unworthy. How could I know? What chance had I?" She bowed her head suddenly, and burst into a storm of bitter weeping. Charlie turned white to his lips. He stood perfectly motionless till the anguished sobbing goaded him beyond endurance. Then he flung round with a jerk. "Stop, for Heaven's sake!" he exclaimed harshly. "I can't bear it. It's too much--too much." He moved close to her, his face twitching, and took her shaking shoulders between his hands. "Molly!" he said almost violently. "You don't know what you said just now. You didn't mean it. It has always been Fisher--always, from the very beginning." She did not contradict him. She did not even answer him. She was sobbing as in passionate despair. And it was that moment which Fisher chose for poking his head into the smoking-room in search of Charlie, whom he expected to find dozing over the fire, ignorant of the fact that it was close upon dinner-time. Charlie leapt round at the opening of the door, but Fisher had taken stock of the situation. He entered with that in his face which the boy had never seen there before--a look that it was impossible to ignore. Charlie met Fisher half-way across the room. "Come into the billiard-room!" he said hurriedly. He seized Fisher's arms with muscular fingers. "Not here," he whispered urgently. "She is tired--upset. There is nothing really the matter." But Fisher resisted the impulsive grip. "I will talk to you presently," he said. "You clear out!" He pushed past Charlie and went straight to the girl. His jaw was set with a determination that would have astonished most of his friends. "What is it, Molly?" he said, halting close beside her. "What is wrong, child?" But Molly could not tell him. She turned towards him indeed, laying an imploring hand on his arm; but she kept her face hidden and uttered no word. It was Charlie who plunged recklessly into the opening breach--plunged with a wholesale gallantry, regardless of everything but the moment's emergency.