An entirely novel state of affairs dawned upon him which required a few moments to bring into focus. The ghastly tragedy for which he was responsible, presenting itself luridly at every instant of the night and day, had hidden from his reminiscent vision Norma's rush down the slope. and her scared tending of the unconscious man. Jimmie's words brought back the scene with unpleasant vividness and provided the interpretation. When he saw this clearly, he was the most amazed man in the three kingdoms. That Jimmie should have conceived and nourished a silly, romantic passion for Norma, although he had never interested himself sufficiently in Jimmie's private affairs to suspect it, was humorously comprehensible. Ludicrously incomprehensible, however, was a reciprocation of the sentiment on the part of Norma. In spite of remorse, in spite of anxiety, in spite of the struggle between cowardice and manhood, his uppermost sensation at that moment was one of lacerated vanity. He had been hoodwinked, befooled, deceived. His own familiar friend had betrayed him; the woman he was about to honour with his name had set him at naught. He tingled with anger and sense of wrong. The sick man opened his eyes drowsily, and seeing Morland's gaze full upon him, started into wakefulness. He motioned him to come nearer. “If you marry Norma--” he began. “If I marry her!” cried Morland. “Of course I'm going to marry her. I'll see any other man damned before he marries her! She's the only woman in the world I've ever set my mind on, and no matter what happens, I'm going to marry her. There are no damned if's about it.” “Yes, there are,” Jimmie retorted weakly. “I was going to preach, but I'm too tired. You'll have to be especially good to her--to make up.” “For what?” “For the wrong done to the other.” Morland was silent. He went up to the window and stared out across the lawns and tugged at his moustache. The reproach stung him, and he felt that Jimmie was ungenerous. After all, he had only done what thousands of other men had done with impunity. The consequences had been enough to drive him mad, but they had been the hideous accident of a temperament for which he had not been responsible. “You surely don't believe all that mad fool said yesterday?” he muttered without turning round. “The promise of marriage?” “It's a crazy invention. There never was any question of marriage. I told you so months ago. I did everything in my power.” “I'm glad,” said Jimmie.