the porch. The dog was slumbering at Fyne's feet.
The muscular little man leaning on his elbow and gazing over the fields
presented a forlorn figure. He turned his head quickly, but seeing I
was alone, relapsed into his moody contemplation of the green landscape.

I said loudly and distinctly: "I've come out to smoke a cigarette," and
sat down near him on the little bench. Then lowering my voice:
"Tolerance is an extremely difficult virtue," I said. "More difficult
for some than heroism. More difficult than compassion."

I avoided looking at him. I knew well enough that he would not like
this opening. General ideas were not to his taste. He mistrusted them.
I lighted a cigarette, not that I wanted to smoke, but to give another
moment to the consideration of the advice--the diplomatic advice I had
made up my mind to bowl him over with. And I continued in subdued
tones.

"I have been led to make these remarks by what I have discovered since
you left us. I suspected from the first. And now I am certain. What
your wife cannot tolerate in this affair is Miss de Barral being what
she is."

He made a movement, but I kept my eyes away from him and went on
steadily. "That is--her being a woman. I have some idea of Mrs Fyne's
mental attitude towards society with its injustices, with its atrocious
or ridiculous conventions. As against them there is no audacity of
action your wife's mind refuses to sanction. The doctrine which I
imagine she stuffs into the pretty heads of your girl-guests is almost
vengeful. A sort of moral fire-and-sword doctrine. How far the lesson
is wise is not for me to say. I don't permit myself to judge. I seem
to see her very delightful disciples singeing themselves with the
torches, and cutting their fingers with the swords of Mrs Fyne's
furnishing."

"My wife holds her opinions very seriously," murmured Fyne suddenly.

"Yes. No doubt," I assented in a low voice as before. "But it is a
mere intellectual exercise. What I see is that in dealing with reality
Mrs Fyne ceases to be tolerant. In other words, that she can't forgive
Miss de Barral for being a woman and behaving like a woman. And yet
this is not only reasonable and natural, but it is her only chance. A
woman against the world has no resources but in herself. Her only means
of action is to be what _she is_. You understand what I mean."

Fyne mumbled between his teeth that he understood. But he did not seem
intere