ing for myself."

"Very chivalrous!" commented Matilda. "Men are like that."

Sylvia shivered. "Don't--please! He--has been very good to me."

"In his own way," said Matilda.

"No, in every way. I can't tell you how good till--till Guy came
back. He brought him back to please me." Sylvia's voice was low
and distressed. "That was when things began to go wrong," she said.

"There was nothing very magnanimous in that," commented Matilda.
"He wanted you to see poor Guy when he was down. He wanted to give
you a lesson so that you should realize your good luck in being
married to him. He didn't count on the fact that you loved him.
He expected you to be disgusted."

"Oh, don't!" Sylvia said quickly. "Really that isn't fair. That
isn't--Burke. He did it against his judgment. He did it for my
sake."

"You don't know much about men, do you?" said Matilda.

"Perhaps not. But I know that much about Burke. I know that he
plays fair."

"Even if he kills his man," suggested Matilda cynically.

"He always plays fair." Sylvia spoke firmly. "But he doesn't know
how to make allowances. He is hard."

"Have you found him so?" said Matilda.

"I?" Sylvia looked across at her.

Their eyes met. There was a certain compulsion in the elder
woman's look.

"Yes, you," she said. "You personally. Has he been cruel to you,
Sylvia? Has he? Ah no, you needn't tell me! I--know." She went
suddenly to her, and put her arm around her.

Sylvia was trembling. "He didn't--understand," she whispered.

"Men never do," said Matilda very bitterly. "Love is beyond them.
They are only capable of passion. I learnt that lesson long ago.
It simplified life considerably, for I left off expecting anything
else."

Sylvia clung to her for a moment. "I think you are wrong," she
said. "I know you are wrong--somehow. But--I can't prove it to
you."

"You're so young," said Matilda compassionately.

"No, no, I am not." Sylvia tried to smile as she disengaged
herself. "I am getting older. I am learning. If--if only I felt
happy about Guy, I believe I should get on much better.
But--but--" the tears rose to her eyes in spite of her--"he haunts
me. I can't rest because of him. I dream about him. I feel torn
in two. For Burke--has given him up. But I--I can't."

"Of course you can't. You wouldn't." Matilda spoke with warmth.
"Don't let Burke deprive you of your friends! Plenty of men
imagine that when you have