Stella found the little group awaiting her, and standing up before them she told her story as she had told it last night to Thresk.  She omitted nothing nor did she falter.  She had trembled and cried for a great part of the night over the ordeal which lay before her, but now that she had come to it she was brave.  Her composure indeed astonished Thresk and filled him with compassion.  He knew that the very roots of her heart were bleeding.  Only once or twice did she give any sign of what these few minutes were costing her.  Her eyes strayed towards Dick Hazlewood’s face in spite of herself, but she turned them away again with a wrench of her head and closed her eyelids lest she should hesitate and fail.  All listened to her in silence, and it was strange to Thresk that the one man who seemed least concerned of the three was Dick Hazlewood himself.  He watched Stella all the while she was speaking, but his face was a mask, not a gesture or movement gave a clue to his thoughts.  When Stella had finished he asked composedly: 

“Why didn’t you tell me all this at the beginning, Stella?”

And now she turned to him in a burst of passion and remorse.

“Oh, Dick, I tried to tell you.  I made up my mind so often that I would, but I never had the courage.  I am terribly to blame.  I hid it all from you—­yes.  But oh! you meant so much to me—­you yourself, Dick.  It wasn’t your position.  It wasn’t what you brought with you, other people’s friendship, other people’s esteem.  It was just you—­you—­you!  I longed for you to want me, as I wanted you.”  Then she recovered herself and stopped.  She was doing the very thing she had resolved not to do.  She was pleading, she was making excuses.  She drew herself up and with a dignity which was quite pitiful she now pleaded against herself.

“But I don’t ask for your pity.  You mustn’t be merciful.  I don’t want mercy, Dick.  That’s of no use to me.  I want to know what you think—­just what you really and truthfully think—­that’s all.  I can stand alone—­if I must.  Oh yes, I can stand alone.”  And as Thresk stirred and moved, knowing well in what way she meant to stand alone, Stella turned her eyes full upon him in warning, nay, in menace.  “I can stand alone quite easily, Dick.  You mustn’t think that I should suffer so very much.  I shouldn’t!  I shouldn’t—­”

In spite of her control a sob broke from her throat and her bosom heaved; and then Dick Hazlewood went quietly to her side and took her hand.

“I didn’t interrupt you, Stella.  I wanted you to tell everything now, once for all, so that no one of us three need ever mention a word of it again.”

Stella looked at Dick Hazlewood in wonder, and then a light broke over her face like the morning.  His arm slipped about her waist and she leaned against him suddenly weak, almost to swooning.  Mr. Hazlewood started up from his chair in consternation.

“But you heard her, Richard!”