The banter in his voice was touched with a tenderness that went straight to Dot’s young heart.  She leaned down impetuously and held his hand.

“No,” she said tremulously.  “I’m not such a little idiot as that, Luke.  I’m afraid of Bertie because I’ve done something he wouldn’t like.  It’s a very little thing, Luke.  It is, really.  But—­but it’s bothered me off and on all the winter.  And now that Nap is home, I feel much worse—­as if—­as if it had been really wrong.  And—­and”—­she broke down suddenly—­“I know I ought to tell him.  But—­I can’t.”

“Tell me,” said Lucas gently.

“And you will tell him for me?”

“If you wish me to do so.”

“I don’t like it,” sobbed Dot.  “It’s so despicable of me.  I’ve wanted to tell him for ever so long.  But he has been so good to me all this time, and—­and somehow I couldn’t face it.  We haven’t even squabbled for months now.  It—­it seemed such a pity to spoil everything when it really didn’t make any difference to anyone if he knew or not.”

“Don’t cry,” interposed Lucas.  “It would hurt Bertie if he knew.”

“Dear Bertie!” whispered Dot.  “Isn’t it horrid of me to be such a coward?  I haven’t done anything really wrong either.  In fact at the time it seemed almost right.”

“Almost!” said Lucas, faintly smiling.

She smiled also through her tears.  “Why don’t you call me a humbug?  Well, listen!  It was like this.  One night in the beginning of the winter Bertie and I had a disagreement about Nap.  It wasn’t at all important.  But I had to stick up for him, because I had chanced to see him just before he left in the summer—­you remember—­when he was very, very miserable?”

“I remember,” said Lucas.

He spoke rather wearily, but his eyes never left her face.  He was listening intently.

“And I was frightfully sorry for him,” proceeded Dot, “though at the time I didn’t know what was the matter.  And I couldn’t let Bertie say horrid things about him.  So I fired up.  And then Bertie told me”—­she faltered a little—­“about Nap caring for Lady Carfax.  And that was where the trouble began.  He didn’t give him credit for really loving her, whereas I knew he did.”

Strong conviction sounded in Dot’s voice.  The blue eyes that watched her opened a little.

“That so?” said Lucas.

“Oh, I was sure,” she said.  “I was sure.  There are some things a woman can’t help knowing.  It was the key to what I knew before.  I understood—­at once.”

“And then?” said Lucas.

“Then, of course, I remembered that Lady Carfax was free.  And I asked Bertie if he knew.  You see, I thought it possible that in her heart she might be caring for him too.  I knew they had always been friends.  And Sir Giles was such a brute to her.  No woman could ever have loved him.  I think most people couldn’t help knowing that.  And it seemed only fair that Nap should know that Sir Giles was dead.  I told Bertie so.  He didn’t agree with me.”  Dot paused and vigorously dried her eyes.  “I still don’t think he was right,” she said.