“But now--to cause this division between you--I wish I had pleaded guilty. It would have settled everything at once.” The words fell somewhat incoherently. He writhed under a sense of impotence. How could he comfort or reassure her? His wits floundered. Suddenly they came into sharp contact with an idea. Why was she walking away from the house at this hour of the evening? He put the question. “I am staying with my aunt, in Redcliffe Gardens,” she replied, calmly. “It was best to avoid the tension at home.” “I cannot blame. Gerard,” said Hugh, in a low voice. “And yet, I thought----” “Yes,” said Irene, looking him full in the face. “We both thought.” Hitherto they had been standing still by the roadside. Now she turned and moved onwards, Hugh accompanying her, slowly wheeling his machine--an incongruous element. “You can see now why I want you to go away for a little?” “Only too clearly,” he said, bitterly. Irene knew that he did not see at all, and cast up at him an instinctive feminine glance, half-grateful, half-pitying. “When shall you start?” “Practically at once--as soon as Cahusac can get away. Are you anxious that I should go quickly?” “I should feel easier.” “Can I come to see you before I leave?” “Best not. It will make no difference between us. The old friendship remains.” They had come to the end of the line of villa residences, to the cross-road that marked the beginning of Sunnington proper. Irene halted. “You must ride on,” she said, extending her hand. He saw the social necessity. They were a marked couple, and several passers-by had already turned curious eyes upon them. “I shall stay abroad until I have your permission to return,” he said. She smiled sadly. It would not be her summons that would bring him back from exile. But she nodded an assent. He pressed her hand, murmured a “God bless you,” and rode off. The interview that each had looked forward to, with such trepidation, was over. Irene felt somewhat faint from the strain. Deceit was alien to her nature which ever erred in over-frankness. Yet when he quickly disappeared from her following eyes into the gathering darkness, she gave a little sob of relief and hurried on at a brisk pace. CHAPTER XVI “Tell me, Harroway,” said Gerard, “you who are the friend of us all, and would like to defend both my wife and Colman, does her story hold water?” “I should let things alone for the present,” replied the lawyer, cautiously; “make investigations, give her for the while the benefit of the doubt.”