comes along, and make the best of it!"

Claire was silent, applauding the sentiment in the abstract, but
shrinking from its application to the swarthy Major Carew. She
stretched her hand across the table, and laid it caressingly on Cecil's
arm.

"_Pauvre_! Dear old girl! It's no use saying he wasn't worth having--
that's no comfort. When you have loved a man, it must be the worst blow
of all to be obliged to despise him; but men are not all like that,
Cecil; you mustn't condemn them all because of one bad specimen. I've a
great admiration for men. As a whole they are _bigger_ than women--I
mean mentally bigger--freer from mean little faults. As a rule they
have a stricter sense of honour. That's an old-fashioned attitude, I
suppose, but I don't care; it's been my experience, and I can only speak
what I know. The average man _is_ honourable, _is_ faithful!"

"Ah, you are speaking of your experience as a leisured girl--a girl
living at home with her mother behind her. It's a different story when
you are on your own. A man finds it pleasant enough to be friends with
a bachelor girl, to take her about, give her little presents, and play
the fairy prince generally. The dear little soul is so grateful"--
Cecil's voice took a bitter note--"so appreciative of his condescension!
He can enjoy her society without being bothered with chaperons and
conventions. It is really an uncommonly jolly way of passing the time.
But, when it comes to _marrying_, does he want to _marry_ the bachelor
girl?"

Claire pushed her chair from the table, her face looked suddenly white
and tired, there was a suspicious quiver in her voice.

"Oh, Cecil, don't, don't! You are poisoning me again. Leave me _some_
faith! If I can't believe in my fellow-creatures, I'd rather die at
once, and be done with it. It stifles me to breathe the atmosphere of
distrust and suspicion. And it isn't true. There _are_ good men, who
would be all the more chivalrous because a girl was alone. I know it!
I'm sure of it! I refuse to believe that every man is a blackguard
because you have had an unfortunate experience."

Mary Rhodes stared, abashed. Since the night when Claire had implored
her not to poison her mind, she had never seen her merry, easy-going
companion so aroused; but for the moment regret was swamped in
curiosity. Ostensibly Claire was arguing in the plural, but in reality
she was defending a definite man; Cecil was sure of it; saw h