any
woman would want you."

He looked to see if she were chaffing. "Last night," he explained, "you
were present when at least one woman didn't want me. That was why----"

She shot a glance at him with her honest, stone-gray eyes. Her hands
started out to touch him, but she recalled them. "You must feel sorry
for her," she said softly. "She's so young. I think you'll live to thank
her. She'll learn that men like you don't come every day--only once in a
lifetime."

[Illustration: "_I was afraid you had left._"]

Uneasily he harked back to her first statement. "Why did you fear that I
had left?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "You had nothing for which to stay."

"There was you."

"Me!" She laughed wisely. "You had to say that out of politeness. In a
man's world I'm of no consequence. I know how I appear in your eyes.
I've been married, so I'm no longer a novelty. I'm not so young as I
was; I shall be older. And then I'm a mother--you forget that, Lord
Taborley. Oh no, I have no attractions to offer."

"You have friendship."

"Friendship!" She repeated the word with a shake of her head. "Men never
want merely friendship; they want less or more. They want vivacity--some
one who will halve their years, with whom they can sport and romp. Some
one who can have babies to them--little pink babies, with squirmy toes
and baldy heads. They want to begin everything afresh. They're not
looking for another man's left-overs. Even in the matter of
disillusionizing a woman, they want to do that for themselves. Men
who've not been married, demand that a woman shall be doing everything,
as they are doing it, for the first time. It's their right."

"But there's another side," he protested. "A woman who's been married
has gained experience--the most dearly purchased form of knowledge, as
you yourself have told me. She can be trusted not to expect the
impossible. She's been over the course and knows the pitfalls. She's
learnt the value of compromise. She ought to have learnt how to be kind.
I think kindness is the thing that matters most. Few people are born
with it. You have to have been wretched to acquire the knack of it."

"And yet you have it," she glanced sideways at him humorously, "and you
haven't been married."

Realizing the drift of their conversation, he pulled himself up. He
feared lest she suspected him of flirting. "You're very generous, Lady
Dawn."

They had arrived at a lookout point, where a lichen-covered su