"I never said I did," answered his cousin coolly, "but I'm looking at it now from the world's point of view. Mrs. Veilsturm has certainly made a dead set at you, and you, thinking it was natural amiability, have played into her hands. You, no doubt, call it friendship, but the world doesn't." "It is friendship. Indeed, hardly that as far as I am concerned, as I don't care if I never saw Mrs. Veilsturm again. She has taken an unaccountable fancy to me, and I'm no Joseph where a pretty woman is concerned, but as for leaving my dear wife for a meretricious woman like that--Good God!" "Well, let the world talk as it likes, so long as it isn't speaking the truth," said Eustace impatiently. "Who cares? If you expect justice from your fellow creatures, you won't get it. As to Aunt Jelly, old women are privileged gossips. It don't matter to you." "But it does matter to me, I tell you," cried Guy violently, walking to and fro, "she has written all about these lies to my wife." The barrel organ outside was still grinding out the popular tune, being now assisted by the shrill voice of a girl singing the words of the song. "Oh, she's left me for another, Mary Anne! Mary Anne! And she said he was her brother, Mary Anne. It may be true, for all I know, But would she kiss her brother so, And would she leave me for him? No! Mary Anne, Mary Anne!" The regular beat of the melody seemed to repeat itself everlastingly in Gartney's ears as he sat there in silence wondering over the statement Errington had made. If Alizon knew all, she would never forgive her husband and then--was it Fate that so persistently smoothed the road for his evil doing? He felt dull and stupid at the unexpected announcement he had heard, and, after a pause, lifted his heavy eyes to Guy. "Well," he said drearily, "and what do you intend to do?" Errington sat down heavily in his chair and stretched out his hands with a weary gesture. "I don't know what to do," he answered in a dull voice. "I suppose the best thing will be for me to go down and explain matters to Alizon." "But will she accept your explanation?" "No!" "Then why make it?" "A drowning man will grasp at a straw. I must do something! I can't let my wife think I have wilfully wronged her. Good heavens! surely she must know I love her dearly." "I should think it is very probable she does," answered Eustace slowly, "besides, I think Lady Errington is too sensible a woman to give ear to lying reports. Tell her all you have told me, and I'm certain you will have no difficulty in making your peace with her." "Do you think so?" asked Guy, his sad face brightening, "but no, I'm afraid not. You remember the story I told you about Mrs. Veilsturm's card being returned." Eustace nodded. "That is the difficulty. If it had been any other woman than Mrs. Veilsturm--but as it is, she'll think I did it wilfully." "Surely not."