acquaintances is so enormous," she
said, "and yet so many people confuse the two. One may meet another
person a hundred times and be only an acquaintance; one may meet a
person once and be a friend in a minute. Perhaps it is not the same with
men. I don't think a man recognizes those who are going to be or are
capable of being his friends at the first glance, whereas a woman does.
She feels it to the end of her finger-tips."

Jeannie gave a quick glance at him, and saw that he was listening with
considerable attention. She gave a little sigh, and clasped her hands
behind her head.

"What an uneconomical world it is," she said, "and what a lot of
affection and emotion Nature allows to run to waste. A man sees in some
woman the one quality, the one character that he is for ever seeking; he
sees that she is in some way the complement of himself, and perhaps the
woman merely dislikes him. Or it may happen the other way round. What a
waste of noble stuff that means. All his affection is poured away like a
stream losing itself in the desert. It does seem a pity."

"Jove! yes, and I never thought of that," he said. "There must be a lot
of that going on. So much, perhaps, that some day the desert will get
quite damp, and then won't it cease to be a desert?"

She looked at him rather longer, letting her eyes rest on his.

"That is a much more hopeful solution," she said. "Perhaps it doesn't
all go to waste. Or shall we say that Nature never throws things away,
but puts all these odds and ends of affection in the stock-pot to make
soup. But they will make soup for other people. Ah! there was lightning
far off. The storm is beginning."

They waited in silence, till a long, drowsy peal of thunder answered.

"Oh, it is miles away yet," he said.

Jeannie arranged her cushions more comfortably. "And yet I rather like
Nature's uneconomical habits," she said, "if we settle she is a
spendthrift. There is something rather royal and large-handed about it.
She is just the same in physical affairs. I saw in some snippety paper
the other day that the amount of electricity discharged in a good
thunderstorm would be sufficient to light every house in London for five
hours, or run all the trains on all the tubes for about the same time. I
should think you are rather spendthrift, too, Lord Lindfield."

He laughed.

"I? Oh, yes. I pour out gallons of affection in all directions.
Always have."

Again Jeannie smiled at him.

"Ah, I li