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“Ah—that rankles?” She raised her head to look at him.

“Not it,” he answered coolly. “I simply don’t believe it.”

“Why? But you’re quite right. It was a woman in my district in London, and I took the shop for her for three days, because her husband was dying, and she couldn’t get any one else to help her. It was—it was rather fun—and—and”

“And you wouldn’t tell me about it, because you didn’t want me to know how proud you were of it.”

“Proud? Ah, you do understand things! The man died, and I had given her those three days with him. I wasn’t proud, was I?—only glad that I could. So glad—so glad!”

“But you let my brother think”

“Oh yes, I let him think it was my trade; I thought it might make him not be silly. You see, I always knew he couldn’t understand things.”

“Celia?”

“Yes?”

“And have you really forgiven me?”

“Yes, yes, I forgive you! But I never should have if There’s mother at the