d its flowers, soothed him. And Leila soothed
him, innocent as he was of any knowledge of her latest aberration,
and perhaps conscious that she herself was not too happy. To watch
her arranging flowers, singing her little French songs, or to find her
beside him, listening to his confidences, was the only real pleasure he
knew in these days. And Leila, in turn, would watch him and think: 'Poor
Edward! He has never lived; and never will; now!' But sometimes the
thought would shoot through her: 'Perhaps he's to be envied. He doesn't
feel what I feel, anyway. Why did I fall in love again?'

They did not speak of Noel as a rule, but one evening she expressed her
views roundly.

"It was a great mistake to make Noel come back. Edward. It was Quixotic.
You'll be lucky if real mischief doesn't come of it. She's not a patient
character; one day she'll do something rash. And, mind you, she'll be
much more likely to break out if she sees the world treating you badly
than if it happens to herself. I should send her back to the country,
before she makes bad worse."

"I can't do that, Leila. We must live it down together."

"Wrong, Edward. You should take things as they are."

With a heavy sigh Pierson answered:

"I wish I could see her future. She's so attractive. And her defences
are gone. She's lost faith, and belief in all that a good woman should
be. The day after she came back she told me she was ashamed of herself.
But since--she's not given a sign. She's so proud--my poor little
Nollie. I see how men admire her, too. Our Belgian friend is painting
her. He's a good man; but he finds her beautiful, and who can wonder.
And your friend Captain Fort. Fathers are supposed to be blind, but they
see very clear sometimes."

Leila rose and drew down a blind.

"This sun," she said. "Does Jimmy Fort come to you--often?"

"Oh! no; very seldom. But still--I can see."

'You bat--you blunderer!' thought Leila: 'See! You can't even see this
beside you!'

"I expect he's sorry for her," she said in a queer voice.

"Why should he be sorry? He doesn't know:"

"Oh, yes! He knows; I told him."

"You told him!"

"Yes," Leila repeated stubbornly; "and he's sorry for her."

And even then "this monk" beside her did not see, and went blundering
on.

"No, no; it's not merely that he's sorry. By the way he looks at her, I
know I'm not mistaken. I've wondered--what do you think, Leila. He's too
old for her; but he seems an honourable,