ose three words threw him into a tumult of joy. What
was tempting to her? After all was the greatest of things possible?
Perhaps, after long estrangement, after much tragedy, the South had
brought them together in the end. That laughter in the theatre, those
silver stars in the purple sky, even the violets of a departed spring,
all had helped, and sorrow had helped also, and so had tenderness to
others.

"It is tempting," she repeated, "not to be mysterious. I've wanted often
to tell you, and then been afraid. I could never tell any one else,
certainly no woman, and I think you're the one man who might understand
and not be disgusted."

"Are you lonely?" he whispered. "Is it anything like that?"

"Yes." The train seemed to shake him towards her. He was resolved that
though a dozen people were looking, he would yet take her in his
arms. "I'm terribly lonely, or I wouldn't speak. I think you must know
already." Their faces were crimson, as if the same thought was surging
through them both.

"Perhaps I do." He came close to her. "Perhaps I could speak instead.
But if you will say the word plainly you'll never be sorry; I will thank
you for it all my life."

She said plainly, "That I love him." Then she broke down. Her body was
shaken with sobs, and lest there should be any doubt she cried between
the sobs for Gino! Gino! Gino!

He heard himself remark "Rather! I love him too! When I can forget how
he hurt me that evening. Though whenever we shake hands--" One of them
must have moved a step or two, for when she spoke again she was already
a little way apart.

"You've upset me." She stifled something that was perilously near
hysterics. "I thought I was past all this. You're taking it wrongly. I'm
in love with Gino--don't pass it off--I mean it crudely--you know what I
mean. So laugh at me."

"Laugh at love?" asked Philip.

"Yes. Pull it to pieces. Tell me I'm a fool or worse--that he's a cad.
Say all you said when Lilia fell in love with him. That's the help
I want. I dare tell you this because I like you--and because you're
without passion; you look on life as a spectacle; you don't enter it;
you only find it funny or beautiful. So I can trust you to cure me.
Mr. Herriton, isn't it funny?" She tried to laugh herself, but became
frightened and had to stop. "He's not a gentleman, nor a Christian, nor
good in any way. He's never flattered me nor honoured me. But because
he's handsome, that's been enough. The son of