know it. Will you let me tell you — everything?”

“Yes,” said Valancy wearily. Oh, how dear he was! How she longed to throw herself into his arms! As he put her gently down in a chair, she could have kissed the slender, brown hands that touched her arms. She could not look up as he stood before her. She dared not meet his eyes. For his sake, she must be brave. She knew him — kind, unselfish. Of course he would pretend he did not want his freedom — she might have known he would pretend that, once the first shock of realisation was over. He was so sorry for her — he understood her terrible position. When had he ever failed to understand? But she would never accept his sacrifice. Never!

“You’ve seen Dad and you know I’m Bernard Redfern. And I suppose you’ve