With a shock of dismay so abrupt and overwhelming that it was likea physical injury, George became aware that something was wrong.

　　Even as he gripped her, Maud had stiffened with a sharp cry; andnow she was struggling, trying to wrench herself free. She brokeaway from him. He could hear her breathing hard.

　　"You--you----" She gulped.

　　"Maud!""How dare you!"There was a pause that seemed to George to stretch on and onendlessly. The rain pattered on the leaky roof. Somewhere in thedistance a dog howled dismally. The darkness pressed down like ablanket, stifling thought.

　　"Good night, Mr. Bevan." Her voice was ice. "I didn't think youwere--that kind of man."She was moving toward the door; and, as she reached it, George'sstupor left him. He came back to life with a jerk, shaking fromhead to foot. All his varied emotions had become one emotion--acold fury.

　　"Stop!"Maud stopped. Her chin was tilted, and she was wasting a balefulglare on the darkness.

　　"Well, what is it?"Her tone increased George's wrath. The injustice of it made himdizzy. At that moment he hated her. He was the injured party. Itwas he, not she, that had been deceived and made a fool of.

　　"I want to say something before you go.""I think we had better say no more about it!"By the exercise of supreme self-control George kept himself fromspeaking until he could choose milder words than those that rushedto his lips.

　　"I think we will!" he said between his teeth.

　　Maud's anger became tinged with surprise. Now that the first shockof the wretched episode was over, the calmer half of her mind wasendeavouring to soothe the infuriated half by urging that George'sbehaviour had been but a momentary lapse, and that a man may losehis head for one wild instant, and yet remain fundamentally agentleman and a friend. She had begun to remind herself that thisman had helped her once in trouble, and only a day or two beforehad actually risked his life to save her from embarrassment. Whenshe heard him call to her to stop, she supposed that his betterfeelings had reasserted themselves; and she had prepared herself toreceive with dignity a broken, stammered apology. But the voicethat had just spoken with a crisp, biting intensity was not thevoice of remorse. It was a very angry man, not a penitent one, whowas commanding--not begging--her to stop and listen to him.

　　"Well?" she said again, more coldly this time. She was quite unableto understand this attitude of his. She was the injured party. Itwas she, not he who had trusted and been betrayed.

　　"I should like to explain.""Please do not apologize."George ground his teeth in the gloom.

　　"I haven't the slightest intention of apologizing. I said I wouldlike to explain. When I have finished explaining, you can go.""I shall go when I please," flared Maud.

　　This man was intolerable.

　　"There is nothing to be afraid of. There will be no repetition ofthe--incident."Maud was outraged by this monstrous misinterpretation of her words.

　　"I am not afraid!""Then, perhaps, you will be kind enough to listen. I won't detainyou long. My explanation is quite simple. I have been made a foolof. I seem to be in the position of the tinker in the play whomeverybody conspired to delude into the belief that he was a king.

　　First a friend of yours, Mr. Byng, came to me and told me that youhad confided to him that you loved me."Maud gasped. Either this man was mad, or Reggie Byng was. Shechoose the politer solution.

　　"Reggie Byng must have lost his senses.""So I supposed. At least, I imagined that he must be mistaken. But aman in love is an optimistic fool, of course, and I had loved youever since you got into my cab that morning . . .""What!""So after a while," proceeded George, ignoring the interruption, "Ialmost persuaded myself that miracles could still happen, and thatwhat Byng said was true. And when your father called on me and toldme the very same thing I was convinced. It seemed incredible, but Ihad to believe it. Now it seems that, for some inscrutable reason,both Byng and your father were making a fool of me. That's all.

　　Good night."Maud's reply was the last which George or any man would haveexpected. There was a moment's silence, and then she burst into apeal of laughter. It was the laughter of over-strained nerves, butto George's ears it had the ring of genuine amusement.

　　"I'm glad you find my story entertaining," he said dryly. He wasconvinced now that he loathed this girl, and that all he desiredwas to see her go out of his life for ever. "Later, no doubt, thefunny side of it will hit me. Just at present my sense of humour israther dormant."Maud gave a little cry.

　　"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, Mr. Bevan. It wasn't that. It wasn't thatat all. Oh, I am so sorry. I don't know why I laughed. It certainlywasn't because I thought it funny. It's tragic. There's been adreadful mistake!""I noticed that," said George bitterly. The darkness began toafflict his nerves. "I wish to God we had some light."The glare of a pocket-torch smote upon him.

　　"I brought it to see my way back with," said Maud in a curious,small voice. "It's very dark across the fields. I didn't light itbefore, because I was afraid somebody might see."She came towards him, holding the torch over her head. The beamshowed her face, troubled and sympathetic, and at the sight allGeorge's resentment left him. There were mysteries here beyond hisunravelling, but of one thing he was certain: this girl was not toblame. She was a thoroughbred, as straight as a wand. She was puregold.

　　"I came here to tell you everything," she said. She placed thetorch on the wagon-wheel so that its ray fell in a pool of light onthe ground between them. "I'll do it now. Only--only it isn't soeasy now. Mr. Bevan, there's a man--there's a man that father andReggie Byng mistook--they thought . . . You see, they knew it wasyou that I was with that day in the cab, and so they naturallythought, when you came down here, that you were the man I had goneto meet that day--the man I--I--""The man you love.""Yes," said Maud in a small voice; and there was silence again.

　　George could feel nothing but sympathy. It mastered other emotionin him, even the grey despair that had come her words. He couldfeel all that she was feeling.

　　"Tell me all about it," he said.

　　&q............