Her voice ended in a tragic wail, and it was with difficulty that she restrained her tears. Eustace never felt so awkward in his life, as he did not know what to say in excuse for having unwittingly thwarted her hopes. Sammy had clambered down off his knee, and was now contentedly covering his toys with his mother's handkerchief, while she, poor woman, was sitting looking at him silently, with an expression of mute misery on her face. "Lady Errington," said Eustace earnestly after a pause, "believe me, I am as sorry as you are, but I do not know how to act. I wrote to Guy, offering him half the property by deed of gift, and he refused to take it." "He could do no less," she answered dully. "What right have we to rob you?" "It's not robbery," he replied vehemently. "I have more money than I want. Whenever Guy likes to accept, he shall have half the property." Without answering his question, she looked down at the baby playing at her feet, and then glanced at him keenly. "Where is my husband?" she asked quickly. "On the Continent--at San Remo." "With!--with that woman?" "I!--I don't know," replied Eustace in a low voice, turning his face away. "Mr. Gartney?" "Yes, Lady Errington." "Look me in the face." He did so unwillingly, and found her eyes fastened on his with a determined expression. "Is my husband with that woman?" "No! I don't think so, but I certainly heard she was at San Remo," he answered evasively. "Ah!" she drew a long breath, and a look of anger swept across her pale face. "He is with her then. I thought so." "You must not be too hard on Guy," said Eustace, very feebly it must be confessed. "Hard on Guy," she repeated scornfully. "Hard on a man who leaves his wife and child for a vile woman like that. You, of course, take his side." "Why should I?" demanded Eustace hotly, "because I am his cousin?" "No, because you are a man. Men always stand up for one another. It's a kind of _esprit du corps_ with them I suppose. It is no wrong to betray a woman in their eyes." "I don't know why you expect me to stand up for my sex, I'm sure," said Eustace cynically. "I think very little of them I assure you, and am quite incompetent to undertake the Herculean task of defending their failings. I've got too many of my own to account for." "I've no doubt," replied Lady Errington bitterly. "You men are all the same." "I sincerely hope not," retorted Eustace imperturbably. "I've no desire to resemble certain fools of my acquaintance. My character is no better nor no worse than my fellow-creatures', and had some good woman like yourself taken charge of my life I might have improved." "You ought to get married." "Do you think so--from your own experience?" She flushed crimson, and in order to hide her confusion stooped down to pick up the child. "Marriages are made in heaven," she said, trying to pass the thing off lightly.