restless eyes seemed to ask whether there
were perfect safety all round, no possibility of Jimmy or Sir Winterton
or anybody else picking up false ideas from careless talk about the few
lines in which the Professor had added nothing. For an instant May's eyes
met his, and she understood what he asked of her. She was to hold her
tongue; that sounded simple. She had held her tongue before, and thus it
happened that Sir Winterton was her husband's friend and trusted him. Now
she was again to be a party to deceiving him, and this time Jimmy Benyon
was to be hoodwinked too. She was to hold her tongue; if by any chance
need arose, she was to lie. That was the request Quisante made of her,
part of the price of being Quisante's wife.

She gave him no pledge in words; a touch of the tact that taught him how
to deal with difficult points prevented him from asking one of her. But
it was quite understood between them; no reference was to be made to the
few lines that the Professor had written. Quisante's uneasiness passed
away, his headache seemed to become less severe; he was in good spirits
as he made his preparations to go to the House. Apparently he had no
consciousness of having asked anything great of her. He had been far more
nervous and shamefaced about his betrayal of the Crusade, far more upset
by the untoward incident of Mr. Foster's letter. May told herself that
she understood why; he was getting accustomed to her and she to him; he
knew her point of view and allowed for it, expecting a similar toleration
in return. As she put it, they were getting equalised, approaching more
nearly to one another's level. You could not aid in queer doings and reap
the fruits of them without suffering some gradual subtle moral change
which must end in making them seem less queer. As the years passed by,
the longer their companionship lasted, the more their partnership
demanded in its community of interest and effort, the more this process
must go on. As they rose before the world--for rise they would (even the
Alethea would succeed in spite of the Professor's burked report)--they
would fall in their own hearts and in one another's eyes. This was the
prospect that stretched before her, as she sat again alone in the
drawing-room, after Quisante had set out, much better, greatly rested, in
good spirits, serene and safe, and after she had pledged herself to his
fortunes by the sacrifice of loyalty to friends and to truth.

Yes, that was th