ast know what you want to say to me," said Mrs.
Majendie. "But I would rather take everything for granted than have any
explanations."

"If I thought you would take my innocence for granted--"

"Your innocence? I should be a bad judge of it, Lady Cayley."

"Quite so." Lady Cayley smiled again, and again inimitably. (It was
extraordinary, the things _she_ took for granted.) "That's why I've come
to explain."

"One moment. Perhaps I am mistaken. But, if you are referring to--to what
happened in the past, there need be no explanation. I have put all that
out of my mind now. I have heard that you, too, have left it far behind
you; and I am willing to believe it. There is nothing more to be said."

There was such a sweetness and dignity in Mrs. Majendie's voice and
manner that Lady Cayley was further moved to compete in dignity and
sweetness. She suppressed the smile that ignored so much and took so much
for granted.

"Unfortunately a great deal more _has_ been said. Your husband is an
intimate friend of my sister, Mrs. Ransome, as of course you know."

Mrs. Majendie's face denied all knowledge of the intimacy.

"I might have met him at her house a hundred times, but, I assure you,
Mrs. Majendie, that, since his marriage, I have not met him more than
twice, anywhere. The first time was at the Hannays'. You were there.
You saw all that passed between us."

"Well?"

"The second time was at the Hannays', too. Mrs. Hannay was with us all
the time. What do you suppose he talked to me about? His child. He talked
about nothing else."

"I suppose," said Mrs. Majendie coldly, "there was nothing else to talk
about."

"No--but it was so dear and naif of him." She pondered on his naivete
with down-dropped eyes whose lids sheltered the irresponsibly hilarious
blue.

"He talked about his child--your child--to _me_. I hadn't seen him for
two years, and that's all he could talk about. _I_ had to sit and listen
to _that_."

"It wouldn't hurt you, Lady Cayley."

"It didn't--and I'm sure the little girl is charming--only--it was so
delicious of your husband, don't you see?"

Her face curled all over with its soft and sensual smile.

"If we'd been two babes unborn there couldn't have been a more innocent
conversation."

"Well?"

"_Well_, since that night we haven't seen each other for more than five
years. Ask him if it isn't true. Ask Mrs. Hannay--"

"Lady Cayley, I do not doubt your word--nor my husband's honour. I