e were the strong preying on the weak?" she
asked.

"It's the unalterable law of life. It's a disagreeable one, but it's
true. It's the only way the predominance of the species is assured."

"I think I'll have a cigarette," said Mavis.

"One of mine?"

"One of my own, thanks."

"You're very unkind to me," said Perigal.

"In not taking your cigarette?"

"You ignore everything that's been between us. You look on me as
heartless, callous; you don't make allowances."

"For what?"

"My cursed temperament. No one knows better than I what a snob I am at
heart. When you were poor, I did not value you. Now--"

"Now?"

"Can you ask?"

A joy possessed Mavis's heart; she felt that her moment of triumph was
near.

Perigal went on:

"Still, I deserve all I get, and that's so rare in life that it's
something in the nature of an experience."

Mavis did not speak. She was hoping no one would come to interrupt them.

"There's one thing you might have told me about," he went on.

"What?"

Perigal dropped his eyes as he said:

"Someone who died."

Mavis's heart was pitiless.

"Why should I?"

"He was mine as much as yours. There are several things I want to know.
And if it were the last word I utter, all that happened over that has
'hipped' me more than anything."

"I shall tell you nothing," declared Mavis.

"I've a right to know."

"No."

"Why not?"

"I tell you, no. You left me to fight alone; it was all so terrible, I
daren't think of it more than I can help."

"But--"

"There are no 'buts,' no anything. I bore the sorrow alone, and I shall
keep to myself all the tenderness that remains: nothing can ever alter
it."

"You say that as if you hated me. Don't do that, little Mavis. I love
you more than I do my mean selfish self."

"You love me!"

"I do now. I wanted you to know. Once or twice, I hoped--never mind
what. But from the way you said what you said just now, I see it's
utterly 'off.'"

"You never said anything truer. And do you know why?" she asked with
flaming eye.

"Because I left you in the lurch?"

"Not altogether that, but because you were a coward, and, above all, a
fool, in the first place. I know what I was. I see what other women
are, and it makes me realise my value. I realise my value as, if you'd
married me, I'd have faced death, anything with you. Pretty women with
a few brains who'll stick to a man are rather scarce nowadays. But it
wasn't good enough for you: you