“It is like this,” began Mr. Selincourt, who was only too pleased to get a listener as sympathetic as Katherine:  “a year ago last winter Mary fell in love with Archie Raymond, or else he fell in love with her; anyhow they became engaged, although I demurred a little, on account of his inability to support a wife.  But I gave way in time, for he was a thoroughly good fellow, and one of the sort who was bound to rise when he got a chance.  Mary was exacting, however—­I told you she had been spoiled—­and Archie wasn’t the sort to be led about on a string like a lapdog; so naturally they quarrelled.”

“Poor Mary!” exclaimed Katherine softly.

“And poor Archie too, I guess,” returned Mr. Selincourt.  “It was his misfortune that he cared so much for her.  I believe she would have treated him better if he had not been so much her slave; but even slaves can’t endure too much, so he revolted after a time.  Jervis Ferrars, who was Archie’s friend, came to Mary and begged that she would see Archie, if only for ten minutes, because there was something to be said between them which could not be put into a letter.  But my girl is made of obstinate stuff that crops up in awkward places sometimes; so she sent word by Jervis that if Archie liked to send her a letter of apology she would read it, but she would not see him until that had been done.”

“Did he do it?” asked Katherine eagerly.  A white light of illumination had suddenly flashed into her mind concerning the nature of the boon which Jervis Ferrars had begged at the hands of Mary, and been denied.

Mr. Selincourt laughed.  “I told you that he was a man and not a lapdog.  That sort don’t go crawling round asking pardon for wrongs they have not committed.  The next we heard of Archie Raymond was that he had joined Max Bohrnsen’s Arctic Expedition in place of a man who had fallen out through sickness, and that he had sailed for the Polar Seas on a two years’ absence.”

“Poor Mary!” sighed Katherine again, then immediately felt ashamed of her own secret light-heartedness.

“Yes, it was poor Mary then,” replied Mr. Selincourt, a shade coming over his pleasant face.  “The worst of it was that she had only herself to thank for all the trouble that had come upon her, and as it was not a thing to be talked about, it had to be borne without any outside sympathy to make it easier.”

“Has she never heard from him since?” asked Katherine softly, and now there were tears in her eyes, and a whole world of pity in her heart for this girl who had deliberately flung away the love she wanted, from pure obstinacy and self-will.

“Only once.  Directly she knew that he had gone beyond recall she began to repent in good earnest, and sent him a cable to the only port where his vessel would be likely to stop, something to this effect; ‘It is I who apologize; will you forgive?’ And after weeks and weeks of waiting this answer came back:  ‘Yes, in two years’ time’.”