d. "I still
have no idea--"

"I wanted to see you, for one thing. But that's only a small thing. I
can't tell you now. I'm the cook to-day, you see, and they'll be wanting
their supper in a little while. I must go and find somewhere for you to
sleep, too. How long can you stay?"

"I'm not sure," he said guardedly. "I don't want to embarrass you,
however much you embarrass me."

"I'd like you to stay for months," she said simply. "I--we're very
lonely."

The gramophone groaning out the "Merry Widow" waltz seemed to contradict
her words, with its accompaniment of tramping feet, laughter and talk.
"This only happens on birthdays and things. Even then, it's lonely."

"I don't believe you're any more lonely than I," he said.

"I can understand that. I've felt it in your lectures. You're so much
wiser than most people."

"What rubbish!" he said with a laugh, wondering again if she were
sincere. "Much less, very much less wise than most people."

"If you tell me that I'll be wishing you'd not come. I'm counting
everything on your being wiser than other people--and shining--like your
lectures. But Louis once said that people usually _think_ much better
than they can do--"

"That was very penetrating of Louis," he said. Then--"I hope I don't
disappoint you. I do--most people. Women especially--"

"Do you? Why?" she said with her puzzled frown.

"I suppose it's because I'm what you called, in your letter, a student
of life. I like to understand things--and people. Particularly do I like
to understand women. But one finds it impossible to take them seriously,
as a rule."

"I don't know many women--" she began.

"And how many men did you say? Two?" he said, smiling. She shook her
head.

"I'm afraid I take everyone rather seriously."

"It's a mistake," he said. "I used to. But they disappoint one. When I
stopped taking people, women especially, seriously, and made love to
them, I found them quite adorable--"

"It seems silly."

"It's quite a delightful pastime."

They had gone out on the verandah again now, and she looked across at
the lake that glimmered red in the fire-glow.

"You didn't seem to think women a pastime in those lectures of yours
three years ago. You said then that they were man's heel of Achilles.
You seemed rather in a panic about them--"

He nodded his head and, meeting her intent eyes, decided that she had to
be taken seriously. He was just going to speak when she went on:

"But you'v