ooked at him thoughtfully. The electric light overhead
showed the small oval face, with the rose flush on the cheek, the soft
greys of the furs round her throat. The words came slowly.

"Do you know--it's a strange thing to confess,--but I _don't_! She is a
bride of two months, and I've been married ten years--but she realises
things now, that I've passed by. She sees deeper into the difficulties.
She feels _more_, not less."

"You are too modest," Dane said quickly, his brown eyes softening in
involuntary admiration of the beautiful sad face. "Nothing is easier
than to talk big, before the event. We can all theorise, and lay down
the law; the tug comes when we begin to act. Mrs Beverley is living in
Utopia at present, and talks the language thereof. Very exalted and
charming, no doubt, but--it isn't real! You should not take her too
seriously."

Cassandra did not reply. It was not for her to betray another woman's
confidence, and for the moment she was occupied with the side-light
which Peignton's words had given her concerning his own sentiments.--
Grizel Beverley believed in the reality of her Utopia, and intended to
preserve it at the point of the sword; Peignton proclaimed it a delusion
before he had even come into possession. Such an attitude was not
natural, was not right. He was not temperamentally a cold-blooded man,
the latent strength of his nature made itself felt, despite the
indifference of his pose, and Teresa was young and pretty and fresh.
Once more the older woman felt a stirring of pity for the younger. It
was as the champion of Teresa's youth that she spoke at last.

"You seem to have no illusions! Isn't it rather a pity, at your..."

"Stage of the game?" He finished the sentence for her with unruffled
composure. "I think not, Lady Cassandra. To expect too much, is to
invite disappointment. I'm not very young, and my experience has shown
me that for most people, life resolves itself into making the most of a
second best. Things _don't_ turn out as they expect. They set out to
gain a certain prize, and they don't gain it, or if they do, something
unexpected creeps in to rub off the bloom. Don't think I'm morbid. I'm
not; I've no reason to be. There's a lot of good, steady-going
happiness open to all of us, if we are sensible enough to take it, and
not lose our chance by expecting too much."

"You are very philosophical. Generally speaking, I suppose you are
right, but we