"What does this mean?" he asked, indicating an advertisement. "Telford showed me the paper. Wanted to know why you were selling the house. I couldn't tell him. Is Harry getting rich so fast that it isn't big enough?" Flora smiled. "The story's rather long, but I think you must be told. If we stay here, somebody may come in. Let's go to the breakwater." She got her hat and crossing a street they reached a long granite wall that ran out to sea. The languid swell beat against the massive, dovetailed blocks, the moon was rising above the gray hills, and when they had passed the landing place there was nobody about. By-and-by Chisholm indicated a mooring post and, when Flora sat down, leaned against the granite parapet. "My dear," he said, "I've been puzzled recently; had a notion something was wrong. For all that, Wyndhams' was obviously prosperous, Harry's an indulgent husband, and I wouldn't own I'd grounds for bothering, until I saw this advertisement. Well, sometimes it's rash to meddle, but I'm anxious. Tell me all you can." Flora told him and after she stopped he was quiet for a time. The moonlight touched his face and she saw the lines get deeper. The old Commodore was deeply moved, but she was glad he did not look stern. "I've got a knock and know how you were hurt. You bear it well," he said. "To some extent, the fault is mine. When Harry wanted to marry you I doubted but gave way. I ought to have been firm." "You are not accountable," Flora replied. "I wanted you to approve, but I meant to marry Harry. I loved him, though I knew his drawbacks. But this doesn't matter; I love him now." Chisholm looked at her with knitted brows and she saw he was suffering for her sake. "You are very staunch, but I knew this. You say Harry means to make reparation. Now he's found out, his repentance is strangely thorough." "You must not be bitter," said Flora quietly. "Very well. Let's be practical. Your husband's job will be hard and long. He must carry his load, but part will fall on you. It's already doing so." "That is just. Much of the fault was mine. I trusted Harry, and after all I trust him better; but at the beginning this was not enough. I wanted you and our friends to know him; to own he had talent and see my pride in him was founded well. In a way, it was a mean ambition. I wanted him to get rich. Not because I'm greedy----" "I think I understand," Chisholm remarked. "Perhaps we use the money standard oftener than we ought. It's not high, but all the same, to earn money demands some useful qualities." He paused and added with a sigh: "I am poor and know." "You are a dear! Your honesty is worth much more money than you could have earned. Then you're not hard, as some honest people are. You will not be hard to Harry now he is trying to make amends?" "Far from it! What right have I to hurt a broken man?"