"I sent Miss Graham away," she said. "You have been here some days. Why didn't you tell me who you were?"
"I'll confess that I knew you. You have changed much less than I have, but I wasn't sure you would be willing to acknowledge me."
"Then you were very wrong. One may be forgiven a first offence and I never quite agreed with the popular opinion about what you were supposed to have done. It wasn't like you; there must have been something that did not come out."
"Thank you," Blake said quietly.
She gave him a searching glance. "Can't you say something for yourself?"
"I think not," he answered. "The least said, the soonest mended."
"But for the sake of others."
"So far as I know, only one person was much troubled about my disgrace. I'm thankful my father died before it came."
"Your uncle felt it very keenly. He was furious when the first news arrived and refused to believe you were to blame. Then when Major Allardyce wrote he scarcely spoke for the rest of the day and it was a long time before he recovered from the blow; I was staying at Sandymere. He loved you, Dick, and I imagined he expected you to do even better than his son."
Blake mused for a few moments, and Mrs. Keith could not read his thoughts. Then he said, "Bertram is a very good fellow and has brains. Why should his people think less of him because he likes to paint? But I've been sorry for the Colonel; more sorry than I've felt for myself."