I think it is only the view of a man of
honour."

Fort reddened. "That's for my conscience," he said stubbornly. "I can't
tell you, and I'm not going to, how things began. I was a fool. But I
did my best, and I know that Leila doesn't think I'm bound. If she had,
she would never have gone. When there's no feeling--there never was real
feeling on my side--and when there's this terribly real feeling for Noel,
which I never sought, which I tried to keep down, which I ran away
from--"

"Did you?"

"Yes. To go on with the other was foul. I should have thought you might
have seen that, sir; but I did go on with it. It was Leila who made an
end."

"Leila behaved nobly, I think."

"She was splendid; but that doesn't make me a brute.".

Pierson turned away to the window, whence he must see Noel.

"It is repugnant to me," he said. "Is there never to be any purity in
her life?"

"Is there never to be any life for her? At your rate, sir, there will be
none. I'm no worse than other men, and I love her more than they could."

For fully a minute Pierson stood silent, before he said: "Forgive me if
I've spoken harshly. I didn't mean to. I love her intensely; I wish for
nothing but her good. But all my life I have believed that for a man
there is only one woman--for a woman only one man."

"Then, Sir," Fort burst out, "you wish her--"

Pierson had put his hand up, as if to ward off a blow; and, angry though
he was, Fort stopped.

"We are all made of flesh and blood," he continued coldly, "and it seems
to me that you think we aren't."

"We have spirits too, Captain Fort." The voice was suddenly so gentle
that Fort's anger evaporated.

"I have a great respect for you, sir; but a greater love for Noel, and
nothing in this world will prevent me trying to give my life to her."

A smile quivered over Pierson's face. "If you try, then I can but pray
that you will fail."

Fort did not answer, and went out.

He walked slowly away from the bungalow, with his head down, sore, angry,
and yet-relieved. He knew where he stood; nor did he feel that he had
been worsted--those strictures had not touched him. Convicted of
immorality, he remained conscious of private justifications, in a way
that human beings have. Only one little corner of memory, unseen and
uncriticised by his opponent, troubled him. He pardoned himself the
rest; the one thing he did not pardon was the fact that he had known Noel
before his liai