o her. And his wife must have felt it too,
when she sat always by herself. Phyllis feels it when she sees that, for
the moment, you have more attraction for her husband than she has. And
Adair feels it as well, when he risks his good name for a little
desperate comfort and is willing to clothe you, for whom he professes to
care, with all the appearance of dishonor. You're no exception; it's the
feeling that you are exceptional that makes you unscrupulous in your
self-pity. Get that into your head, that you're not exceptional. Half
the world's with you in the same box; but it smiles and doesn't own it.
Have you got that?"

She nodded and tried to withdraw her hands; but he held them fast.

"And now as regards this desire to be wanted; that's perfectly right and
natural. There's nobody who doesn't share it. And I understand what you
say about mere friendship. It's unsatisfying and impermanent. It's like
a meal snatched at a restaurant; none of the dishes or napkins or tables
or chairs belong to you. They've been used by other people before you
and they'll be used by other people the moment your bill is settled.
What you want and what every one wants, is something more than
friendship--a human relation with one person who is so much yours that
your intimacies are a secret from all the world."

"Some one with whom I can be little," she whispered, "and foolish and
off my guard."

He smiled. "That's it exactly. But you won't get that sort of
relationship with a man who belongs already to another woman."

"One gets the pretense."

He shook his head. "Not even the pretense. There was a phrase you used
about Adair; you said he'd lost his direction. That's true; he has for
the moment. Presently he'll refind it and the road leads back to
Phyllis. You said something else: you called him a second best. That's
all he is, however you take him, whether as a husband, a father or a
lover. He lacks earnestness; he has always lacked it. I've been his
friend for years; his flabbiness sticks out all over him. But you're not
a second best, Mrs. Lockwood. You're a top-notcher--too fine for
anything but the best. You really are. You ought to set a higher value
on yourself."

She had regained her composure. He showed a willingness to release her
hands, but she let them rest where they were like tired birds, while she
regarded him with wistful kindness.

"Too fine for anything but the best! It's a long while since I heard any
one say th