n everything was just where it
should be, she returned to the fire and sank into a chair thoughtfully.

"How I should like some rides," she said; "but I suppose I can't have
them, not unless Maxwell Davison's still in Oxford."

Ian's face clouded.

"He's not," he returned, shortly; and knocked the ashes out of his pipe,
hesitating as to how he should put what he had to say about Maxwell
Davison.

Mildred put her hand over her eyes and leaned back in her chair.
Suddenly the silence was broken by a burst of rippling laughter. Ian
started; his own thoughts had not been so diverting.

"What's the joke, Mildred?"

"Oh, Ian, don't you know? Max made love to Milly and she--she bit him!
Wasn't it frightfully funny?" She laughed again, with a more inward
enjoyment.

"I didn't know you bit him, although he richly deserved it; but of
course I knew he made love to you. How do you know?"

"It came to me just now in a sort of flash. I seemed to see him--to see
her, floundering out of the canoe; and both of them in such a towering
rage. It really was too funny."

Ian's face hardened.

"I am afraid I can't see the joke of a man making love to my wife."

"You old stupid! He'd never have dared to behave like that to me; but
Milly's such an ass."

"Milly was frightened, shocked, as any decent woman would be to whom
such a thing happened. She certainly didn't encourage Maxwell; but she
found an appointment already made for her to go on the river with him.
No doubt she took an exaggerated view of her--of your--good God,
Mildred, what am I to say?--well, of your relations with him."

Mildred had closed her eyes. A strange knowledge of things that had
passed during her suppression was coming to her in glimpses.

"I know," she returned, in a kind of wonder at her own knowledge.
"Absurd! But Max did behave abominably. I couldn't have believed it of
him, even with that silly little baa-lamb. Of course she couldn't manage
him. She won't be able to manage Tony long."

"Please don't speak of--of your other self in that way, Mildred. You're
very innocent of the world in both your selves, and you must have been
indiscreet or it would never have occurred to Maxwell to make love to
you."

Ian was actually frowning, his lips were tight and hard, the clear
pallor of his cheek faintly streaked with red. Mildred, leaning forward,
looked at him, interested, her round chin on her hands.

"Are you angry, Ian? I really believe you are. Is