Lily took the tippet without a word. Her heart was beating fast, and the colour had returned as upon a freshet of understanding to her cheeks. A woman’s sure instinct told her why he had come to the room. He knew that she had lied to him, and he understood the reason. Benny handed over the fur, but showed no intention to go. She thought that he had changed very much since they had parted an hour ago, and he wore a certain dignity of manhood which was sure, but indefinable. When he spoke, the note of cringing banter had left him, and he had a man’s tone, encouraging and not a little masterful. "I thought I would bring the thing down," he said, with a kindly smile, "I shan’t be in to dinner to-night, and you might want it. The doctor says I oughtn’t to be out at all; but it doesn’t do to listen overmuch to the medicine men. You see, I had a pretty bad spill, and the muscles of my arm are playing tricks. It wouldn’t matter in an ordinary way, but just now—" She looked up quickly. "You had a fall on skis, had you not?" she asked. Benny laughed. "You can keep a secret, can’t you, Mrs. Kennaird? Well, I’m going to tell you one; I fell out of an aeroplane—that’s the truth!" "You fell out of an aeroplane!—then you were the ghost, Mr. Benson?" He nodded his head. "Yes, I’m the ghost, but I don’t want anyone to know it just yet. There’s a prize of ten thousand offered for a flight down the Simplon Valley and over the big mountains. My machine would have won it if I hadn’t come down last night. There’s where luck figures. I don’t think I can be ready now, and I suppose Paulhan or Bleriot will get it. But I wanted an Englishman to win, and I believe I have the machine. It’s not like anybody else’s—something different altogether. They tell me I look just like a double-headed eagle when I’m up. That’s true, I suppose, for my machine is a bit of a curiosity in its way. You wouldn’t understand, perhaps, but if you will come to the chalet sometime, I’ll show you. You ought to come just to see an extraordinary thing—and that’s a priest with his cassock tucked up, working like one of the best. I left him there when I came along; and, just by the way, I met a man I knew outside the hotel door—Sir Luton Delayne, of Holmswell. We were talking about him last night, you’ll remember?" She flushed scarlet. "Yes," she said in a low voice, "he is my husband—he has been here to-night." Benny drew a little nearer still. "You will forgive me for what I said last night, Lady Delayne. I ought to have known; my good sense should have told me. What I really came here for was not to excuse myself, but to ask your forgiveness. A man should never speak all that is in his mind to anybody except himself. When he begins to judge other people, he is putting a fool’s cap on his head. I am old enough to have learned that lesson, and I think shame to have forgotten it. Will you let me say as much to-night?"