and then had pulled him up short. Was she afraid of him presuming? If
so, it was disgusting of her.

But he was thinking the snub quite natural. Everything she did was
natural, and incapable of causing offence. While the Miss Schlegels
were together he had felt them scarcely human--a sort of admonitory
whirligig. But a Miss Schlegel alone was different. She was in Helen's
case unmarried, in Margaret's about to be married, in neither case an
echo of her sister. A light had fallen at last into this rich upper
world, and he saw that it was full of men and women, some of whom were
more friendly to him than others. Helen had become "his" Miss Schlegel,
who scolded him and corresponded with him, and had swept down yesterday
with grateful vehemence. Margaret, though not unkind, was severe and
remote. He would not presume to help her, for instance. He had never
liked her, and began to think that his original impression was true,
and that her sister did not like her either. Helen was certainly lonely.
She, who gave away so much, was receiving too little. Leonard was
pleased to think that he could spare her vexation by holding his tongue
and concealing what he knew about Mr. Wilcox. Jacky had announced her
discovery when he fetched her from the lawn. After the first shock, he
did not mind for himself. By now he had no illusions about his wife, and
this was only one new stain on the face of a love that had never been
pure. To keep perfection perfect, that should be his ideal, if the
future gave him time to have ideals. Helen, and Margaret for Helen's
sake, must not know.

Helen disconcerted him by turning the conversation to his wife. "Mrs.
Bast--does she ever say 'I'?" she asked, half mischievously, and then,
"Is she very tired?"

"It's better she stops in her room," said Leonard.

"Shall I sit up with her?"

"No, thank you; she does not need company."

"Mr. Bast, what kind of woman is your wife?"

Leonard blushed up to his eyes.

"You ought to know my ways by now. Does that question offend you?"

"No, oh no, Miss Schlegel, no."

"Because I love honesty. Don't pretend your marriage has been a happy
one. You and she can have nothing in common."

He did not deny it, but said shyly: "I suppose that's pretty obvious;
but Jacky never meant to do anybody any harm. When things went wrong,
or I heard things, I used to think it was her fault, but, looking back,
it's more mine. I needn't have married her, but as I have I must