f course if she is--it _is_
smash!"

"And haven't you yet got used to its being?"

I kept my eyes on her; I traced the buried figure in the ruins. "She's
good enough for a fool; and so"--I made it out--"is he! If he _is_ the
same ass--yes--they _might_ be."

"_And_ he is," said Mrs. Briss, "the same ass!"

I continued to look at her. "He would have no need then of her having
transformed and inspired him."

"Or of her having _de_formed and idiotised herself," my friend
subjoined.

Oh, how it sharpened my look! "No, no--she wouldn't need that."

"The great point is that _he_ wouldn't!" Mrs. Briss laughed.

I kept it up. "She would do perfectly."

Mrs. Briss was not behind. "My dear man, she has _got_ to do!"

This was brisker still, but I held my way. "Almost anyone would do."

It seemed for a little, between humour and sadness, to strike her.
"Almost anyone _would_. Still," she less pensively declared, "we want
the right one."

"Surely; the right one"--I could only echo it. "But how," I then
proceeded, "has it happily been confirmed to you?"

It pulled her up a trifle. "'Confirmed'----?"

"That he's her lover."

My eyes had been meeting hers without, as it were, hers quite meeting
mine. But at this there had to be intercourse. "By my husband."

It pulled _me_ up a trifle. "Brissenden knows?"

She hesitated; then, as if at my tone, gave a laugh. "Don't you suppose
I've told him?"

I really couldn't but admire her. "Ah--so you _have_ talked!"

It didn't confound her. "One's husband isn't talk. You're cruel
moreover," she continued, "to my joke. It was Briss, poor dear, who
talked--though, I mean, only to me. _He_ knows."

I cast about. "Since when?"

But she had it ready. "Since this evening."

Once more I couldn't but smile. "Just in time then! And the _way_ he
knows----?"

"Oh, the way!"--she had at this a slight drop. But she came up again. "I
take his word."

"You haven't then asked him?"

"The beauty of it was--half an hour ago, upstairs--that I _hadn't_ to
ask. He came out with it himself, and _that_--to give you the whole
thing--was, if you like, my moment. He dropped it on me," she continued
to explain, "without in the least, sweet innocent, knowing what he was
doing; more, at least, that is, than give her away."

"Which," I concurred, "was comparatively nothing!"

But she had no ear for irony, and she made out still more of her story.
"He's simple--but he sees."

"And when he