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neck. “You’ve done the right thing, I’m sure.”

She waited, expecting a question; then, as Grace remained silent, she went on:

“You’ve left him. That was a wise thing to do. It was the right thing to do. You’ve always done the right thing, because right is instinctive in you. If I can recognise that, how much more clearly will he recognise it, now that he has had time to think? His recognition, and his recollection, will poison his love for the other woman.”

Grace lifted her head.

“But you don’t understand,” she cried brokenly. “He let me go———”

“Which proves his manhood, my dear. He would have been only half a man had he lied to keep you, or ordered you to stay. He knows you are the injured party, and he accepts your judgment of the case. You’ve taken the child from him. Do you think he is glad of that, too?”

“I don’t know; I don’t know. When a man is infatuated with a woman he is blind to everything else———”

“But he’s not deaf, my dear. When a child’s voice has sounded in a home an echo is left there. I imagine James Harley to be peculiarly sensitive to echoes.”

“You know my husband?” asked Grace in surprise, as she dried her eyes.

“I’ve never met him, but I’ve seen his photograph often, and, of course, I’ve read his stories. Everybody takes an interest in writers, no one more than Mrs. Grundy. Mrs. Grundy noticed in the papers that you were staying in Napier, and she promptly whispered her opinion as to why you were here without your husband. And she’s not far wrong, it seems.”

“Do they say I’ve left him because of some other woman?”

“It’s true, isn’t it?”