sort."

"You didn't think so by the time she'd finished with you."

"I was an ass. A giddy, hysterical ass. I didn't understand. Poor
old Connie! She could just swim for herself--but not for both of us.
And I scared her stiff--tying myself round her neck like that."

Stonehouse cut him short.

"Nobody could accuse Mademoiselle Labelle of being a poor swimmer," he
said. (He wondered at the same moment whether there was something
wrong with him. He was so intently conscious of her. He could see her
lounging idly in the big chair opposite, so damnably sure of herself
and amused. He wanted to insult and, if possible, hurt her.)

"You're awfully down on people, Robert. Hard on 'em. Often wonder why
you haven't chucked me off long ago. But that's an old story. You
ought to like her for being able to swim well. It's what you do
yourself."

"I don't mind her swimming well," Robert returned. "But I understand
that she's been able to drown quite a number of people better able to
look after themselves than you are. As far as you're concerned, it
seems--rather a pity."

Cosgrave shook his head. A certain quiet obstinacy, not altogether
that of intoxication, came into his flushed face. And yet he looked
sorry and almost ashamed.

"I'm not going to drown. You know--I hate standing out against you,
Robert. You've been so--so jolly decent to me--and I believe in
you--more than in anything in the world. Always have done. If you
said 'the earth's square,' I'd say, 'Why, yes, so it is--old chap!' But
this--this is different--it's like a dog eating grass--a sort of
instinct."

"Instinct!" Robert echoed ironically. "If you know where most
instincts lead to----" He stopped, and then went on in a cold,
matter-of-fact tone, as though he were diagnosing a disease. "It's not
my business--but since you've come here I'd be interested to hear what
you think is going to be the end of it all. I might persuade you to
look facts in the face. By position you're a little suburban nobody,
who was pushed out to West Africa to become a third-rate little trader.
You've survived, and you've got a little money to burn. To you it
seems a fortune. But it won't pay this woman's cigarette bills. She
makes you ridiculous."

"I am ridiculous," Cosgrave interrupted patiently. "I always have
been, you know. I expect I always shall be. I'm the square peg in the
round hole--and that's always comic. But she doesn't laugh at