The sun was nearing the western hills, and the evening sounds from the yard came to them.

He drew a chair close to hers, and sat down by her, looking silently into the troubled face.
"I'm a sight," she said, coming back to the common, everyday cares as she tried to get her hair into order.
"No, you're not.

Never mind a few stray locks of hair.

Never mind that tear-stained face.

I have something to tell you." "Yes ?" "You said you were afraid, afraid of Mr.Jack Lamont." "Yes," she whispered.
"Well, you never need be afraid of him again." "I--I don't understand." "Jack Lamont is dead." She gave a startled cry.
"Dorian--you-- ?" "No; I have not killed him.