I'm very fond of
her, she's so charming to look at; but, Gregory, I really don't dislike
her husband. He's a desperate sort of person--I think that's rather,
refreshing; and you know I do think she's a little like him in that!"

The blood rushed up into Gregory Vigil's forehead; he put his hand to his
head, and said:

"Like him? Like that man? Is a rose like an artichoke?"

Mrs. Pendyce went on:

"I enjoyed having her here immensely. It's the first time she's been
here since she left the Firs. How long is that? Two years? But you
know, Grig, the Maidens were quite upset about her. Do you think a
divorce is really necessary?"

Gregory Vigil answered: "I'm afraid it is."

Mrs. Pendyce met her cousin's gaze serenely; if anything, her brows were
uplifted more than usual; but, as at the stirring of secret trouble, her
fingers began to twine and twist. Before her rose a vision of George and
Mrs. Bellew side by side. It was a vague maternal feeling, an
instinctive fear. She stilled her fingers, let her eyelids droop, and
said:

"Of course, dear Grig, if I can help you in any way--Horace does so
dislike anything to do with the papers."

Gregory Vigil drew in his breath.

"The papers!" he said. "How hateful it is! To think that our
civilisation should allow women to be cast to the dogs! Understand,
Margery, I'm thinking of her. In this matter I'm not capable of
considering anything else."

Mrs. Pendyce murmured: "Of course, dear Grig, I quite understand."

"Her position is odious; a woman should not have to live like that,
exposed to everyone's foul gossip."

"But, dear Grig, I don't think she minds; she seemed to me in such
excellent spirits."

Gregory ran his fingers through his hair.

"Nobody understands her," he said; "she's so plucky!"

Mrs. Pendyce stole a glance at him, and a little ironical smile flickered
over her face.

"No one can look at her without seeing her spirit. But, Grig, perhaps
you don't quite understand her either!"

Gregory Vigil put his hand to his head.

"I must open the window a moment," he said.

Again Mrs. Pendyce's fingers began twisting, again she stilled them.

"We were quite a large party last week, and now there's only Charles.
Even George has gone back; he'll be so sorry to have missed you!"

Gregory neither turned nor answered, and a wistful look came into Mrs.
Pendyce's face.

"It was so nice for the dear boy to win that race! I'm afraid he bets