ion of a vulgar scene was in the
air, and frightened him. Then he remembered that Rhoda was in frail
health, and said very gently, "Oh, Rhoda darling, don't say silly things,
like a young gurl in a novelette," and slithered along the floor and laid
his arm across her lap and laughed up into her face.

She sniffed a little, and dabbed her handkerchief at her eyes.

"It's all very well, Peter, but you do care for her a lot, you know you
do."

"But of course I do," said Peter, laying his cheek against her knee. "You
don't _mind_, Rhoda, do you?"

"You care for her," said Rhoda, but softening under his caresses, "and
you care for her husband. You care for him awfully, Peter; more than for
her really, I believe; more than for anyone in the world, don't you?"

"Don't," said Peter, his voice muffled against her dress. "I can't
compare one thing with another like that, and I don't want to. Isn't
one's caring for each of the people one knows quite different from every
other? Isn't yours? Can you say which you love best, the sun rising over
the river, or St. Mark's, or a Bellini Madonna? Of course you can't, and
it's immoral to try. So I'm not going to place Lucy and Denis and you and
Rodney and Peggy and the kitten in a horrid class-list. I won't. Do you
hear?"

He drew one of her small thin hands down to his lips, then moved it up
and placed it on his head, and drew it gently to and fro, ruffling his
hair.

"You're a silly, Peter," said Rhoda, and there was peace.

Very soon after that Lucy came. She came in the afternoon before Peter
got home, and Rhoda looked with listless interest at the small, wide-eyed
person in a grey frock and big grey hat that made her small, pale face
look like a white flower. Pretty? Rhoda wasn't sure. Very like Peter; so
perhaps not pretty; only one liked to look at her. Clever? It didn't
transpire that she was. Witty? Well, much more amused than amusing; and
when she was amused she came out with Peter's laugh, which Rhoda wasn't
sure was in good taste on her part. Absurdly like Peter she was, to
look at and to listen to, and in some inner essence which was beyond
definition. The thought flashed through Rhoda's mind that it was no
wonder these two found things to tell each other every other Sunday;
they would be interested in all the same things, so it must be easy.

Remotely, dully, Rhoda thought these things, as things which didn't
concern her particularly. Less and less each day she had