In saying this, she brought her eyes back fully to her victim. And if ever guilt was written large upon a human countenance, it was upon the face of V. Vivian at that moment. Brightly flushed he was, with an embarrassment painful to witness. And yet, so strange is the way of life, the joy of victory once again seemed to slip from the clutch of Cally Heth. What house of cards was this she had pulled down upon herself?... "Really, you must appreciate," the man was saying, in a light, dry voice, "I shouldn't feel at liberty to betray a secret of that sort, even if I knew. I'm sorry, but--" But the girl's sickening sensations of falling through space broke out in faltering speech: "_Oh!_... Do you _mean_ ..." She halted, to steady herself, and took a fresh start, no better than the first: "Do you mean--that--" "I mean only, Miss Heth, that I haven't the slightest idea what this is all about. I thought," he said, in a voice of increasing hardness, "that we were talking of the Works. If, at another time, you can give me a few minutes--" "Was it YOU?" said Carlisle, breaking through his defenses ... "Do you mean--it was YOU, all along?..." "I mean nothing of any sort. Does it occur to you that these questions are quite unfair?--that they put me in a ..." She demanded in a small voice: "_Did you buy this house for the Settlement?_" Shot down with the pointblank question, the tall young man, whose coat was so extremely polished at the elbows, died game, saying with sudden gentleness: "No, it was my Uncle Armistead." And then there was no sound but the steady beat of the rain upon sidewalk and roofs ... Upstairs, just a floor and a ceiling away, Mrs. Heth, craning her neck for the last time, perceived that Cally had decided not to come to the meeting; also that it was just as well, viewing the inclement weather. Downstairs, almost directly beneath her, Cally stood front to front with the family enemy, her face quite white. "Of course you understand," the enemy was saying, hurriedly and yet firmly too, "he gave me the money expecting it to be used for the public good. I've considered that I merely had it in trust, as a fund for--for these purposes, as I've explained. And this--well, you may easily imagine that it was the most perfect form of self-indulgence.... I've gotten so fond of this old place ... But I can't imagine how we came to be talking of it, and I beg that you'll forget the whole matter. I--my uncle would have been very much annoyed to--to have it known or talked about...." Not in that singular experience in the Cooney parlor, not even in the memorable New Year's moment in her own library, had Carlisle been swept with such a desire to dissociate herself from her own person, to sneak away from herself, to drop through the floor. Nevertheless, some dignity in her, standing fast, struck out for salvage; and out of the uprush of humiliating sensation, she heard her voice, colorless and flat: