I'm taking nothing for granted. But no girl, Archie, ever
cared for a man more than Lucy cared for me--and then she stopped
caring. I know less about your stamina. But this is not the first
time you've cared."

"It's the first time I've _really_ cared," I said.

"It's not the first time you've _said_ that you really cared, is it?"

I was unable to answer, and his eyes twinkled with a kind of automatic
amusement. Then once more grave, "I never even _thought_," he said,
"that I ever cared about anyone but Lucy. That gives me a peculiar
advantage in passing judgment on matters of caring--an advantage
enjoyed neither by you nor Lucy. I wasn't any more her first flame
than she is yours. But she was my first and only flame. I can speak
with a troop of faithful years at my back. But you and she have only
been faithful to each other for a matter of days. I am not doubting
the intensity of your inclination, but I can't help asking, Will it
last? Are you prepared to swear that you will love her and no other
all your days?"

"Yes," I said firmly. And I loved her so much at that moment that I
felt purified in so saying and believing.

"How about you, Lucy'? Never mind, don't answer. You are thinking of
that day when you stood up before all our friends and swore that you
would love me all your days. Naturally it would embarrass you to
repeat that with respect to another, before my face. So I won't ask
you to . . ."

"John," said Lucy, "all this is so obvious. And it leads nowhere.
Talk won't change us. So won't you please say what you are going to
do?"

"Not until I know myself," he said. "But there is one thing . . . I
think it would be better all round if you saw less of each other until
something is decided. I realize that Jock and Hurry and I are very
much in the way. Jock and Hurry naturally don't care how much you two
are together. But I do. It isn't that I don't trust you out of my
sight. You know that. But the mind of a jealous man is a gallery hung
with intolerable pictures. Merely to think of Lucy, Archie, giving you
the same look that she used to have for me is to burn in hell-fire."

He turned on his heel, and left us abruptly. We could hear him calling
to the nurse to ask how Hurry was feeling, and we could hear his steps
going up the stair to the nursery.

"He's going to do the right thing, Lucy," I said.

"I wish he wouldn't talk and talk. The milk's spilled. I suppose
we'v