Neither would it be a good introduction to Betty’s first season in London, neither would it be enjoyed by her mother, whom he remembered as a woman with primitive views of domestic rectitude.  He smiled the awful smile as he took out of his pocket the envelope containing the words his wife had written to Mr. Ffolliott, “Do not come to the house.  Meet me at Bartyon Wood.”  It did not take much to convince people, if one managed things with decent forethought.  The Brents, for instance, were fond neither of her nor of Betty, and they had never forgotten the questionable conduct of their locum tenens.  Then, suddenly, he had changed his manner and had sat down, laughing, and drawn Rosalie to his knee and kissed her—­yes, he had kissed her and told her not to look like a little fool or act like one.  Nothing unpleasant would happen if she behaved herself.  Betty had improved her greatly, and she had grown young and pretty again.  She looked quite like a child sometimes, now that her bones were covered and she dressed well.  If she wanted to please him she could put her arms round his neck and kiss him, as he had kissed her.

“That is what has made you look white,” said Betty.

“Yes.  There is something about him that sometimes makes you feel as if the very blood in your veins turned white,” answered Rosy—­in a low voice, which the next moment rose.  “Don’t you see—­don’t you see,” she broke out, “that to displease him would be like murdering Mr. Ffolliott—­like murdering his mother and mine—­and like murdering Ughtred, because he would be killed by the shame of things—­and by being taken from me.  We have loved each other so much—­so much.  Don’t you see?”

“I see all that rises up before you,” Betty said, “and I understand your feeling that you cannot save yourself by bringing ruin upon an innocent man who helped you.  I realise that one must have time to think it over.  But, Rosy,” a sudden ring in her voice, “I tell you there is a way out—­there is a way out!  The end of the misery is coming—­and it will not be what he thinks.”

“You always believe——­” began Rosy.

“I know,” answered Betty.  “I know there are some things so bad that they cannot go on.  They kill themselves through their own evil.  I know!  I know!  That is all.”

CHAPTER LX

“Don’t go on with this”

Of these things, as of others, she had come to her solitude to think.  She looked out over the marshes scarcely seeing the wandering or resting sheep, scarcely hearing the crying plover, because so much seemed to confront her, and she must look it all well in the face.  She had fulfilled the promise she had made to herself as a child.  She had come in search of Rosy, she had found her as simple and loving of heart as she had ever been.  The most painful discoveries she had made had been concealed from her