ters--absence of
thought. Speech without thought is responsible for most people's
disasters."

"But it can't matter what people say if it isn't true, can it?" Claire
persisted. "I mean--_nonsense_ can't _count_ against any one?"

"I'm rather afraid it does matter," said Miss Marley, lighting her
cigarette. "Nonsense is very infectious, and it often carries a good
deal of weight. I have known nonsense break people's hearts."

"Oh!" said Claire in a rising breath. She was wondering what it was like
to have a broken heart. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew that
she was going to have one, half of one; but what really frightened her
was that the other half was going to belong to Winn.

"Could any one," she said under her breath, "think any harm of him? He
told me you knew all about us, and that I might talk to you if I wanted
to; but I didn't then. There didn't seem anything to say. But now I do
want to know; I want to know awfully what you think. If I asked him,
he'd only laugh or else he'd be angry. He's very young in some ways, you
know, Miss Marley--younger than I am."

"Yes," agreed Miss Marley; "men are always, to the end of their lives,
very young in some ways."

"I never thought," Claire went on breathlessly, "that people would dream
of blaming him because we were together. Why, it's so stupid! If they
only knew! He's so good!"

"If he's that," said Miss Marley, smiling into the fire, "you've
succeeded in making a saint of a Staines, a very difficult experiment! I
shouldn't advise you to run away too much with that idea, however."

"It isn't me; it's him," exclaimed Claire, regardless of grammar. "I
mean, after what Maurice said this afternoon--I don't know how to put it
quite--I almost wish we'd both been bad!"

Miss Marley nodded. She knew the danger of blame when a tug of war is in
progress, and how it weakens the side attacked.

"How can I explain to people," Claire went on, "what he's been like? I
don't know whether I've told you, but he went away almost directly he
found out he cared, before--long before he knew I cared, though he might
have known; and he left a message to tell me about his wife, which I
never got. But, oh, Miss Marley, I've never told him, I should have come
if I'd got it or not! I should really, because I _had_ to know if he
cared! So you see, don't you, that if either of us was wicked it was
me? Only I didn't _feel_ wicked; I really felt awfully good. I don't see
how you