He had kept himself from her because he had owed so much to friendship.  And yet his love had not been the less true, and had not been less dear to poor Hetta.  She had waited, sure that it would come,—­having absolute confidence in his honour and love.  And now she was told that this man had been playing a game so base, and at the same time so foolish, that she could find not only no excuse but no possible cause for it.  It was not like any story she had heard before of man’s faithlessness.  Though she was wretched and sore at heart she swore to herself that she would not believe it.  She knew that her mother would write to Roger Carbury,—­but she knew also that nothing more would be said...