it with me?"

"No, not with you. But of course I'm angry when I think of a fellow like
that, my own cousin, a man who has been a guest in my house over and
over again, being cad enough to make love to my wife."

Mildred was smiling quietly to herself.

"How primitive you are, Ian!" she said. "I suppose men are primitive
when they're angry. I don't mind, but it does seem funny _you_ should
be."

He looked at her, surprised.

"Primitive? What do you mean?"

"What difference does it make, Max being your cousin, you silly old boy?
You'd hardly ever seen him till last winter. Clans aren't any use to us
now, are they? And when a man's got a house of his own, as Max had, or
even a hotel, why should he be so grateful as all that for a few decent
meals? He's not in the desert, depending on you for food and protection.
Anyhow, it seems curious to expect him to weigh little things like that
in the balance against what is always said to be such a very strong
feeling as a man's love for a woman."

Men often deplore that they have failed in their attempts fundamentally
to civilize Woman. They would use stronger language if Woman often made
attempts fundamentally to civilize them.

"Please don't look at me like that," Mildred said, tremulously, after a
pause. And the tears rushed to her eyes.

Ian's face softened, as leaning against the tall white mantel-piece he
looked down and met the tear-bright gaze of his beloved.

"Poor sweetheart!" he exclaimed. "You're just a child for all your
cleverness, and you don't half understand what you're talking about. But
listen to me--" He kneeled before her, bringing their heads almost on a
level. "I won't have any more affairs like this of Maxwell's. I dare say
it was as much my fault as yours, but it mustn't happen again."

She dabbed away two tears that hung on her eyelashes, and looked at him
with such a bright alluring yet elusive smile as might have flitted
across the face of Ariel.

"How can I help it if Milly flirts? I don't believe I can help it if I
do myself. But I can tell you this, Ian--yes, really--" Her soft white
arms went about his neck. "I've never seen a man yet who was a patch
upon you for cleverness and handsomeness and goodness and
altogetherness. No! You really are the very nicest man I ever saw!"

CHAPTER XXIII

In spite of the deepening dislike between the two egos which struggled
for the possession of Mildred Stewart's bodily personality, they ha