debts that he was afraid to confess to his father and--of all
horrible things--had been looking to Mrs. Churchley to pay. She
turned red with the mere apprehension of this and, on the heels of
her guess, exulted again at having perhaps averted such a shame.

"Can't you just see I'm in trouble? Where are your eyes, your
senses, your sympathy, that you talk so much about? Haven't you seen
these six months that I've a curst worry in my life?"

She seized his arm, made him stop, stood looking up at him like a
frightened little girl. "What's the matter, Godfrey?--what IS the
matter?"

"You've gone against me so--I could strangle you!" he growled. This
image added nothing to her dread; her dread was that he had done some
wrong, was stained with some guilt. She uttered it to him with
clasped hands, begging him to tell her the worst; but, still more
passionately, he cut her short with his own cry: "In God's name,
satisfy me! What infernal thing did you do?"

"It wasn't infernal--it was right. I told her mamma had been
wretched," said Adela.

"Wretched? You told her such a lie?"

"It was the only way, and she believed me."

"Wretched how?--wretched when?--wretched where?" the young man
stammered.