"So much that she gave you the confession you asked for?" "Ah, yes--yes--yes," cried Lola, then seeing she had betrayed herself, she began to be alarmed. "Ah, you will say nothing. I would not tell anys but my George. He loves me. He will not see me dead." "Good heavens, Lola, did you kill the woman?" "That fat ladys in black silk? Ah, no, I did not. But she was so afraid of the knife." "You left her alive on that night?" "Why, yes, my George. We part--oh, such good friends." Lola blew a kiss from her finger-tips. "She quite pleased, immense!" "Well, Lola, as you have told so much, you must tell me all." "There is nothing to say," she replied, turning sullen. George rose. "Then I shall go away," he declared. "I came here to be your friend, Lola, and to save you from getting into further trouble. But if you will not be candid--" He moved to the door. "What is candids? I know not, George." She sprang to her feet. "Ah, my heart, do not go. Soul of my soul, leave me not. I will do anythings what you ask of me." "Then tell me the whole story of your visit to Mrs. Jersey." "But you will marry Mees Vard!" "I do that in any case. See here, Lola," he added artfully, "this marriage register which you wish to destroy does not matter now. My grandfather has acknowledged me as his heir." She looked at him with wide eyes and pale cheeks. "And you will be milor--you will marry Mees Vard--you will--you will--" Her mouth began to work piteously like a child being reproved. "I will always be your friend, Lola!" "You will marry Mees Vard?" she persisted. "Lola," he took her hand, "if we married we would never be happy. I and you are different people. Do you wish to see me happy?" "Ah, yes--if I die I would have you happy," she sobbed. "Then allow me to marry Miss Ward, and give me up." "Ah, but it is asking much--always too much." "Well," said George, a trifle cruelly, "you offered to die for me just now, yet to see me happy you won't deny yourself anything." "Yes--yes--but it is all so quick, my dear. Give times--oh, give times till I become used." She sobbed for a moment, then dried her eyes and sat down briskly. "I am ready, my George. You shall be happy, but you must not forget poor Lola--ah, no!" "Of course not," replied George, patting her hand. "Now tell me the story. Wait. Was it you mother who told you of my father's death?" "Yes," assented Lola. "She often talked of your fathers," "I heard she was in love with him," said George, slowly. Lola shrugged her shapely shoulders. "That I know not. My dear mother was handsome--oh, yes, and dark, and fond of gayness. She might have loved--eh--it is not impossibles." "Did she ever hint who killed my father?" Lola shook her head. "No. Never did she say anythings. He was found dead--stabbed--" she made a gesture, "that was all--all!"