upstairs with her to her room. Two minutes afterwards Bilton came in—strolled in.'
' You mean he didn't knock?' asked Judy.
' Oh, my dear, what does it matter whether he knocked or not? As a matter of fact, I think he did, but he came in on the top of his knock. Anyhow, there was no doubt in my mind as to what their relations were; but, to make sure, I asked Mrs. Emsworth. It was a horrible thing to do, but I did it. I like that woman; she is what she is, but she is extremely bon enfant, a nice, straightforward boy. And she told me. I was perfectly right: he had been living with her for the last two years.'
Sybil got up, and began walking up and down the room.
' It hurt me,' she went on; ' it hurt me intolerably. It hurt my self-respect that he should come to me like that. No, he had not broken with her—at any rate, not definitely. She was perfectly straightforward with me, and in a curious sort of way she was sorry for me, as one is sorry for a pain one does not understand. She could not see, I think, that it made any difference.'
Judy's rather short nose went in the air.
' Luckily, it does not matter much what that sort of woman thinks,' she said.
Sybil did not reply for a moment.
' You don't see my difficulty, then,' she said; ' my difficulty, my indecision, is that I am not certain whether she is right or not. Look at it this way: I was attracted by Mr. Bilton; I felt for him that which I believe in me does duty for love. I liked him and I admired him; I liked the fact that he admired me. Now, all the time that I liked and admired him this thing had happened. I liked the man who had done that. What difference, then, can my knowing it make?'
Judy looked at her in surprise.
' If he had happened to be a murderer?' she said.
