When he had gone out of the room Anna stood where he hadleft her. "I must believe him! I must believe him!" shesaid.

　　A moment before, at the moment when she had lifted her armsto his neck, she had been wrapped in a sense of completesecurity. All the spirits of doubt had been exorcised, andher love was once more the clear habitation in which everythought and feeling could move in blissful freedom. Andthen, as she raised her face to Darrow's and met his eyes,she had seemed to look into the very ruins of his soul.

　　That was the only way she could express it. It was asthough he and she had been looking at two sides of the samething, and the side she had seen had been all light andlife, and his a place of graves...

　　She didn't now recall who had spoken first, or even, veryclearly, what had been said. It seemed to her only a momentlater that she had found herself standing at the other endof the room--the room which had suddenly grown so smallthat, even with its length between them, she felt as if hetouched her--crying out to him "It IS because of youshe's going!" and reading the avowal in his face.

　　That was his secret, then, THEIR secret: he had met thegirl in Paris and helped her in her straits--lent her money,Anna vaguely conjectured--and she had fallen in love withhim, and on meeting him again had been suddenly overmasteredby her passion. Anna, dropping back into her sofa-corner,sat staring these facts in the face.

　　The girl had been in a desperate plight--frightened,penniless, outraged by what had happened, and not knowing(with a woman like Mrs. Murrett) what fresh injury mightimpend; and Darrow, meeting her in this distracted hour, hadpitied, counselled, been kind to her, with the fatal, theinevitable result. There were the facts as Anna made themout: that, at least, was their external aspect, was as muchof them as she had been suffered to see; and into the secretintricacies they might cover she dared not yet project herthoughts.

　　"I must believe him...I must believe him..." She kept onrepeating the words like a talisman. It was natural, afterall, that he should have behaved as he had: defended thegirl's piteous secret to the last. She too began to feel thecontagion of his pity--the stir, in her breast, of feelingsdeeper and more native to her than the pains of jealousy.

　　From the security of her blessedness she longed to lean overwith compassionate hands...But Owen? What was Owen's part tobe? She owed herself first to him--she was bound to protecthim not only from all knowledge of the secret she hadsurprised, but also--and chiefly!--from its consequences.

　　Yes: the girl must go--there could be no doubt of it--Darrowhimself had seen it from the first; and at the thought shehad a wild revulsion of relief, as though she had beentrying to create in her heart the delusion of a generosityshe could not feel...

　　The one fact on which she could stay her mind was that Sophywas leaving immediately; would be out of the house within anhour. Once she was gone, it would be easier to bring Owento the point of understanding that the break was final; ifnecessary, to work upon the girl to make him see it. Butthat, Anna was sure, would not be necessary. It was clearthat Sophy Viner was leaving Givre with no thought of everseeing it again...

　　Suddenly, as she tried to put some order in her thoughts,she heard Owen's call at the door: "Mother!----" a name heseldom gave her. There was a new note in his voice: thenote of a joyous impatience. It made her turn hastily tothe glass to see what face she was about to show him; butbefore she had had time to compose it he was in the room andshe was caught in a school-boy hug.

　　"It's all right! It's all right! And it's all your doing! Iwant to do the worst kind of penance--bell and candle andthe rest. I've been through it with HER, and now shehands me on to you, and you're to call me any names youplease." He freed her with his happy laugh. "I'm to bestood in the corner till next week, and then I'm to go up tosee her. And she says I owe it all to you!""To me?" It was the first phrase she found to clutch at asshe tried to steady herself in the eddies of his joy.

　　"Yes: you were so patient, and so dear to her; and you sawat once what a damned ass I'd been!" She tried a smile, andit seemed to pass muster with him, for he sent it back in abroad beam. "That's not so difficult to see? No, I admit itdoesn't take a microscope. But you were so wise andwonderful--you always are. I've been mad these last days,simply mad--you and she might well have washed your hands ofme! And instead, it's all right--all right!"She drew back a little, trying to keep the smile on her lipsand not let him get the least glimpse of what it hid. Nowif ever, indeed, it behoved her to be wise and wonderful!

　　"I'm so glad, dear; so glad. If only you'll always feellike that about me..." She stopped, hardly knowing what shesaid, and aghast at the idea that her own hands should haveretied the knot she imagined to be broken. But she saw hehad something more to say; something hard to get out, butabsolutely necessary to express. He caught her hands,pulled her close, and, with his forehead drawn into itswhimsical smiling wrinkles, "Look here," he cried, "ifDarrow wants to call me a damned ass too you're not to stophim!"It brought her back to a sharper sense of her central peril:

　　of the secret to be kept from him at whatever cost to herracked nerves.

　　"Oh, you know, he doesn't always wait for orders!" On thewhole it sounded better than she'd feared.

　　"You mean he's called me one already?" He accepted the factwith his gayest laugh. "Well, that saves a lot of trouble;now we can pass to the order of the day----" he broke offand glanced at the clock--"which is, you know, dear, thatshe's starting in about an hour; she and Adelaide mustalready be snatching a hasty sandwich. You'll come down tobid them good-bye?""Yes--of course."There had, in fact, grown upon her while he spoke theurgency of seeing Sophy Viner again before she left. Thethought was deeply distasteful: Anna shrank fromencountering the girl till she had cleared a way through herown perplexities. But it was obvious that since they hadseparated, barely an hour earlier, the situation had taken anew shape. Sophy Viner had apparently reconsidered herdecision to break amicably but definitely with Owen, andstood again in their path, a menace and a mystery; andconfused impulses of resistance stirred in Anna's mind.

　　She felt Owen's touch on her arm. "Are you coming?""Yes...yes...presently.""What's the matter? You look so strange.""What do you mean by strange?""I don't know: startled--surprised " She read what her lookmust be by its sudden reflection in his face.

　　"Do I? No wonder! You've given us all an exciting morning."He held to his point. "You're more excited now that there'sno cause for it. What on earth has happened since I sawyou?"He looked about the room, as if seeking the clue to heragitation, and in her dread of what he might guess sheanswered: "What has happened is simply that I'm rathertired. Will you ask Sophy to come up and see me here?"While she waited she tried to think what she should say whenthe girl appeared; but she had never been more conscious ofher inability to deal with the oblique and the tortuous.

　　She had lacked the hard teachings of experience, and aninstinctive disdain for whatever was less clear and openthan her own conscience had kept her from learning anythingof the intricacies and contradictions of other hearts. Shesaid to herself: "I must find out----" yet everything in herrecoiled from ............