er extreme trial. "My
dear," she said, "how perfectly absurd you are! How can there be any
doubt of the matter? Listen to me for one moment and think. When a girl
insists on talking to her mother when both are late for dinner, and have
hardly five minutes to dress, and says flatly, 'Mamma dear, I am going
to marry So-and-so, or So-and-so'--because it's exactly the same thing,
whoever it is--how can there be any possibility of a mistake?"

"Very little, certainly," says the Earl reflectively. He seemed to
consider the point slowly. "But it can hardly be said to be exactly the
same thing in all cases. This case is peculiar--is peculiar."

"I can't see where the peculiarity comes in. You mean his eyes. But a
girl either is, or is not, in love with a man, whether he has eyes in
his head or not."

"Indisputably. But it complicates the case. You must admit, my dear,
that it complicates the case."

"You mean that I am unfeeling? Wouldn't it be better to say so instead
of beating about the bush? But I am nothing of the sort."

"My dear, am I likely to say so? Have you ever heard me hint such a
thing? But one may be sincerely sorry for the victim of such an awful
misfortune, and yet feel that his blindness complicates matters. Because
it does."

"I'm not sure that I understand what you are driving at. Perhaps we are
talking about different things." This is not entirely without
forbearance--may show a trace of uncalled-for patience, as towards an
undeserved conundrum-monger.

"Perhaps we are, my dear. But as to what I'm driving at. Can you recall
what Gwen said about his eyes?"

"I think so. Let me see.... Yes--she said did I know anything against
him. I said--nothing except his eyes. And then she said--I recollect it
quite plainly--'Who destroyed his sight? Tell me that!'"

"What did you answer to that?"

"I refused to talk any longer, and said you and she must settle it your
own way."

"Nothing else?"

"Oh--well--nothing--nothing to speak of! Lutwyche came worrying in with
hot water."

The Earl sat cogitating until her ladyship roused him by saying "Well!"
rather tartly. Then he echoed back:--"Well, Philippa, I think possibly
you are right."

"Only possibly!"

"Probably then. Yes--certainly probably!"

"What about?"

"I thought I understood you to say that, in your opinion, Gwen had got
it into her head that ..."

"Oh dear!... There--never mind!--go on." She considered her husband a
prolix Earl, someti