The Keeper of the Door

by Ethel M. Dell

"Impossible!" ejaculated Noel.

Her fingers closed over his sleeve; her hold was beseeching. "I can't argue with you, Noel," she said. "But I know it is true. You see, I was there."

He stared at her in stupefaction. "Olga, I can't believe it!"

"It is true," she said again.

"But—" Noel began to waver in spite of himself—"if you were there, you must have known all along!"

Her brows drew into the old lines of perplexity. "You see, I was ill," she said. "I—I didn't remember. I don't remember all the details even now. I only know that—it happened. Max told me so—when I asked him."

"Good heavens above!" ejaculated Noel.

She went on drearily, as if he had not spoken. "That was the end of everything between us; and it's just as well now. For I shouldn't have been able to marry him even if it hadn't been."

"Why not?" said Noel.

She looked away from him, and was silent.