you to think it."

"Why? Why did you want me to think it?"

He was no longer disinclined to talk. Though his brain lacked
spontaneity, it responded appropriately to suggestion.

"I didn't want you to think something else."

"What? What should I think?"

His voice was thick and rapid, his eyes burned.

"That you'd made a mess of my life, my dear."

"When did I make a mess of your life?"

"Never mind when. I _might_ have married, only I didn't. That's the
difference between me and you."

"And that's how I made a mess of your life, is it? I haven't made a
furious success of my own, have I?"

"I wouldn't have brought it up against you, if you had. The awful thing
was to stand by, and see you make a sinful muddle of it"

"A sinful muddle?"

"Yes. That's what it's been. A sinful muddle."

"Which is worse, d'you think, a sinful muddle? or a muddling sin?"

"Oh, don't ask me, my dear. I can't see any difference."

"My God--nor I!"

"There's no good talking. You're so obstinate, Wallie, that I believe, if
you could live your life over again, you'd do just the same."

"I would, probably. Just the same."

"There's nothing you'd alter?"

"Nothing. Except one thing."

"What thing?"

"Never mind what."

"I don't mind, if the one thing wasn't _me_--was it?"

He did not answer.

"Was it?" she insisted, turning the full blue blaze of her eyes on him.

He started. "Of course it wasn't. You don't suppose I'd have said so if
it had been, do you?"

"A-ah! So, if you could live your life over again, you wouldn't turn me
out of it? I didn't take up much room, did I? Only two years."

"Two years?"

"That was all. And you'd let me stay in for my two poor little years.
Well, that's something. It's a great deal. It's more than some women
get."

"Yes. More than some women get."

"Poor Wallie. I'm afraid you wouldn't live your life again."

"No. I wouldn't."

"I would. I'd live mine, horrors and all. Just for those two little
years. I say, if we'd keep each other in for those two years, we needn't
turn each other out now, need we?"

"Oh no, oh no."

His brain followed her lead, originating nothing.

"See here," she said, "if I come in--"

"Yes, yes," he said vaguely.

He was bending forward now, with his hands clasped on the table. She
stretched out her beautiful white arms and covered his hands with hers,
and held them. Her eyes were full-orbed, luminous, and tender. They held
him, too.

"I com