of the park--that park whose very trees and shrubs seem to have taken on
a hard, knowing look from having been so long made the recipients of
cynical confidences. They seemed to understand perfectly what had
happened, to echo Wyeth's high-pitched, friendly drawl, with an added
touch of mockery that was all their own--"Oh--Linford!"




CHAPTER XVII

FOR THE SAKE OF NANCY


It was toward six o'clock when she ascended the steps of the rectory.
Bernal, coming from the opposite direction, met her at the door. Back of
his glance, as they came together, was an intimation of hidden things,
and at sight of him she was smitten by an electric flash of wonder. The
voice of Wyeth, that friendly, untroubled voice, she now remembered had
called to no specific Linford. In the paralysis of embarrassment that
had seized her in that darkened hallway, she had failed to recall that
there were at least two Linfords in existence. In an instant her inner
world, wrought into something like order in the past two hours, was
again chaos.

"Why, Nance--you look like night, when there are no stars--what is it?"
He scanned her with an assumption of jesting earnestness, palpably meant
to conceal some deeper emotion. She put a detaining hand on his arm as
he was about to turn the key in the lock.