Rector felt that he was listening to the excuses of a serpent.

"Then you'd have me believe that you don't even love her?"

"No more than she does me," said Vernon very truly. "I've never
breathed a word of love to her," he went on; "such an idea never
entered our heads. She's a charming girl, and I admire her immensely,
but--" he sought hastily for a weapon, and defended Betty with the
first that came to hand, "I am already engaged to another lady. It is
entirely as an artist that I am interested in Miss Betty."

"Serpent," said the Rector within himself, "Lying serpent!"

Vernon was addressing himself silently in terms not more flattering.
"Fool, idiot, brute to let the child in for this!--for it's going to
be a hell of a time for her, anyhow. And as for me--well, the game is
up, absolutely up!"

"I am really most awfully sorry," he said again.

"I find it difficult to believe in the sincerity of your repentance,"
said the Rector frowning.

"My regret you may believe in," said Vernon stiffly. "There is no
ground for even the mention of such a word as repentance."

"If your repentance is sincere"--he underlined the word--"you will
leave Long Barton to-day."

Leave without a word, a sign from Betty--a word or a sign to her? It