"Do hurry, please, Bryan; I'm afraid everybody at home may be uneasy."
But instead of hurrying, they must have stopped again. For the second time Jack murmured, "I don't see how I could ever have been such a wretch, or how I'll ever confess to Frank."
Then Captain MacDonnell's inquiry:
"What are you going to say?"
And his wife's answer:
"Why, tell the truth and face the music; what else is there to do, Bryan?"
In the past few years since his marriage, undoubtedly Frank Kent had either altered or simply developed. Sometimes it is difficult to determine which one of these two things a human being has done. Frank had always been quiet and determined. If he had been otherwise he would never have tried for so many years to persuade Jacqueline Ralston to marry him. But now that he had grown older, he certainly appeared sterner. He seemed to have certain fixed ideas of right and wrong, and they were not broad ideas, to which he expected at least the members of his own household to conform.
The two wayfarers were now in sight and Frank dismounted.
"I am sorry to have been compelled to play eavesdropper," he said curtly, when they also caught sight of him.
Jack was soaked with rain and her boots and riding habit were splashed with mud. A little river of water filled and overflowed the brim of her hat. But her cheeks were a deep rose color and her grey eyes dear and shining.