ld him; 'but where's the harm? Mr. Quisante
must have his own opinion here and there--that comes of having a clever
man--but (I said) the Government had a hundred majority there, and Mr.
Quisante knew it.' Well, he saw that, and admitted that he'd been wrong
to make a fuss about it."

Quisante nodded grave appreciation. May gave a little laugh, and suddenly
poured out a glass of claret for Mr. Foster; turning, he found her eyes
on his face, sparkling with amusement. His own large features relaxed
into a slow smile; something like the twinkle was to be detected now.

"Nothing's the worse for a bit of putting, is it?" he said, and drank his
wine at a gulp.

"You're a diplomatist, Mr. Foster," said she.

"Not to the detriment of truth; I assure you I don't sacrifice that," he
replied, with renewed gravity and an apparently perfect sincerity.

May was sorry when he took his leave, partly for the temporary loss of a
study which amused her, more because his departure brought the time for
telling Quisante of Dick Benyon's visit. She did not want to tell him and
anticipated no result, yet she felt herself bound to let him know about
it. To this mind her eighteen months of marriage had brought her. In the
quite early days, while not blind to the way he looked at things when
left to himself, she had been eager to show him how she looked at them,
and, with the memory of her triumphs during their engagement, very
sanguine that she would be able always to convert him from his view to
hers, to open his eyes and show him the truth as it seemed to her. This
hopeful mood she had for nearly a year past been gradually abandoning.
She had once asked Morewood whether people must always remain what they
were; now she inclined to answer yes to her own question. But she could
not convince herself so thoroughly as to feel absolved from the duty of
trying to prove that the true answer was no. She must offer her husband
every chance still, she must not acquiesce, she must not give up the game
yet; some day she might (she smiled at herself here) awake an impulse or
happen on a moment so great as really to influence, to change, and to
mould him. But she had come to hate this duty; she would rather have left
things alone; as a simple matter of inclination, she wished that she felt
free to sit and smile at Quisante as she had at old Foster the maltster.
She could not; Foster was not part of her life, near and close to her,
her chosen husband, the