“I am not mistaken, Hugh,” she replied with quiet firmness. “Please let me have my own way in this.” He bowed in assent, and they walked on together. “A private sitting-room?” “That would be more comfortable.” There was a long silence on their way to the hotel. The reference to the subject of their interview was a touch of ice. Presently he asked: “How did you guess that I should come to Victoria instead of Charing Cross?” “You wired ‘_arrive 7.10_’ I looked in a Bradshaw. The Charing Cross train is timed to get in five minutes later. Men haven’t all the sense, you know.” The flash of her old bantering manner cheered him. He laughed a little compliment to her sagacity. “I chose Victoria because it was nearer to you,” he said. They reached the hotel. Hugh explained his wants at the office. A waiter conducted them to a private sitting-room, switched on the light, drew down the Venetian blinds, and left them to the room’s rather stiff and imposing comforts. “You must be very tired,” said Irene, womanlike. “Go and get something to eat--and then we’ll talk. Do. To please me.” Her old solicitude and kindly intimacy. The upheaval had not altered her attitude towards him. Her steadfastness touched him deeply. “You have a heart of gold, Irene,” he said. But he disclaimed hunger or fatigue, and sat down in the saddle-bag chair opposite her, wondering at the peace of mind that these few moments of companionship could bring him, in defiance of the devastating emotions at work below the surface. She pushed up her veil and regarded him wistfully. “You are looking much older. Your face has grown lined--and no wonder.” “What I have gone through is small compared with the ruin I have brought on you.” “If it is in any way your doing, Hugh, you have brought me to the truth,” she replied. “The truth?” “Yes. I was living in a Fool’s Paradise. I see now that disillusion was bound to have come sooner or later. Instead of the glamour disappearing bit by bit through unhappy years, it has all been torn off at once. Gerard did not love me. He is quite a different being from the man I loved. I prefer realities to shams. I have arrived at the truth, and so I am content.” “But he shall arrive at the truth, too,” cried Hugh, starting to his feet. “He shall lick the dust before you--for the deadly wrong he wants to inflict on you. I had no idea before I left. If I had seen him yesterday when the news reached me, I should have--Perhaps it is well I didn’t see him. Why did you send me away? Did you know at the time?” “Yes,” she replied, “I knew. But I wanted to see whether it was merely blind rage or whether time would bring a change. I felt it was better for you two not to meet in hot blood.” “I could have stopped it, at once. Given you back your happiness.” “Do you understand me so little?” she asked with an air of reproach. “I could have convinced him, brought him to your feet. And I shall--to-morrow.” “For God’s sake don’t,” she exclaimed quickly.