meet her. Everybody will see
that doesn't happen."

"I mean that I---- Well----"

"You'd better not say it. Besides, it's nonsense. I doubt if you've
given her a thought for weeks and weeks."

"Until I came here perhaps that was almost nearly true. But you've
stirred me up, sweet cousin, and old things, old memories and habits
have come to the surface again. Mary wrote herself over my life--in all
sorts of places.... I can't tell you. I've never talked of her to
anyone. I'm not able, very well, to talk about my feelings.... Perhaps a
man of my sort--doesn't love twice over."

I disregarded a note of dissent from my cousin. "That was all so magic,
all my youth, all my hope, all the splendid adventure of it. Why should
one pretend?... I'm giving none of that to Rachel. It isn't there any
more to give...."

"One would think," remarked the Fuerstin, "there was no gift of healing."

She waited for me to speak, and then irritated by my silence struck at
me sharply with that wicked little tongue of hers.

"Do you think that Lady Mary Justin thinks of you--as you think of her?
Do you think she hasn't settled down?"

I looked up at her quickly.

"She's just going to have a second child," the Fuerstin flung out.

Yes, that did astonish me. I suppose my face showed it.

"That girl," said the Fuerstin, "that clean girl would have sooner
died--ten thousand deaths.... And she's never--never been anything to
you."

I think that for an instant she had been frightened at her own words.
She was now quite angry and short of breath. She had contrived a rapid
indignation against Mary and myself.

"I didn't know Mary had had any child at all," I said.

"This makes two," said the Fuerstin, and held up a brace of fingers,
"with scarcely a year and a half between them. Not much more anyhow....
It was natural, I suppose. A natural female indecency. I don't blame
her. When a woman gives in she ought to do it thoroughly. But I don't
see that it leaves _you_ much scope for philandering, Stephen, does
it?... And there you are, and here is Rachel. And why don't you make a
clean job of your life?..."

"I didn't understand."

"I wonder what you imagined."

I reflected. "I wonder what I did. I suppose I thought of Mary--just as
I had left her--always."

I remained with my mind filled with confused images of Mary, memories,
astonishment....

I perceived the Fuerstin was talking.

"Maundering about," she was saying, "like a hun