"Would you marry me with this accusation hanging over me?"
"I would make you my wife at this moment.
I would stand beside you in the dock holding your hand.
What does it matter to me if all the foolish world think you guilty?
I know in my own heart that you are an innocent woman."
"Oh, Giles, Giles!" Then her tears burst forth.
She could weep now, and felt the better for that moment of joyful relief.
He waited till she grew more composed, and then began to talk of the future.
"This can't go on for ever, Anne," said he decisively; "you must proclaim your innocence."
"I can't," she answered, with hanging head.
"I understand.
You wish to protect this man.
Oh, do not look so surprised.
I mean with the man you fled with—the man Wilson."
"I don't know any one called Wilson."
"Anne!"—he looked at her keenly—"I implore you to tell me the truth.
Who is this man you fled with to Gravesend—with whom you went on board the yacht?"
"Is that known?" she asked in a terrified whisper.
"Yes.
A great deal is known."
"Portia never told me that," she murmured to herself.
"Who is Portia?"
"She lives at the Priory, and——"
"I see.
She is the red-haired, freckle-faced girl—the daughter of Mr. Franklin.
Morley told me that.
Portia!
What a stately name for that dreadful young person!"
"But indeed, Giles, she is a good girl, and has been a kind friend to me," explained Anne eagerly. "She told me all about you, and how you believed in my innocence."
"Ah!" exclaimed Giles, "then that was why she seemed so pleased to hear my name.
I met her in the park just now, Anne——"
"You met her in the park?" Anne half rose to go. He drew her down.
"Yes, dearest.
But don't be alarmed.
She will never think that we have met.
She was looking for this." And Giles took out the coin.
Anne gave a cry of delighted surprise.
"Oh," she said, taking it eagerly, "I thought I had lost it forever. And you found it, Giles?"
"I found it," he replied gravely. "It was that discovery which made me believe that you were in the neighborhood.
And then when Olga——"
"Olga." Anne looked at him suddenly. "Do you know her?"
"Very well.
She is your friend."
"My best friend.
She loves me like a sister."
Giles could have told her that the sisterly love was not to be trusted, but she had so much trouble that he could not find it in his heart to add to her worries.
Besides, time was slipping by, and as yet he knew nothing of the truth of the matter.
"Tell me why you fled with that man," he asked.
"Giles, I will tell you all," she replied earnestly, "but on your part let me hear what is being done about the death of poor Daisy.
It will set my mind at rest.