oked at her with such unconsciousness; to reassure herself
with the expression of it was rather like mocking something blind and
deaf and trusting. A sudden pity confused her, and, with a little
artificiality of manner which masked the confusion, she went on: "One
could never be unhappy without her knowing it, and then one would be
glad she did know, for she can sympathise without hurting you with
sympathy. She feels everything that is beautiful and rare, everything
that is sad and tragic; she feels everything and sees everything, and
she sees and feels in order to act, to give, to help. Is it all this you
like in her?" Milly finished.

Dick Quentyn still looked mildly at his wife. "Yes; I suppose so," he
said.

"You see these things in Christina?"

"In a different way," he smiled. It was almost a very clever smile.

Milly might have felt startled at it had he not gone on very
simply:--"One sees that she is such a thoroughly good sort; so loyal;
she would go through thick and thin for anyone she cared about; and so
kind, as you say; she would talk as nicely to a dull person as to a
clever one; she'd never snub one or make one feel a duffer."

For a moment Milly was silent. "Do you mean that I used to snub you--and
make you feel a duffer?" she then asked.

"Oh, I say, Milly!" Dick, genuinely distressed, looked his negative.
"You didn't suppose?----"

"I know that I was often horrid."

"Well, if you were, you didn't suppose I'd tell you in that roundabout
fashion. Besides, all that's done with long ago." He looked away from
her now and down at the floor.

Again Milly was silent. Strangely to herself, she felt her eyes fill
with tears. She waited to conquer them before saying very gently:
"Dick, do forgive me for having been so horrid."

He stared up at her. "Forgive you, Milly?" The request seemed to leave
him speechless.

She was able to smile at him. "You do?"

"You never were. It's more to the point for me to ask you to forgive
me."

"For what, pray?" She had to control a quiver in her voice.

"Oh--for everything--for being so wrong, so altogether the wrong person,
you know," said Dick, smiling too. He again looked away from her, across
the room, now, at Christina; and, after a silence, filled for Milly with
perplexing impulses, he added: "But the real reason I like her so much
is that she is so tremendously fond of you."

Milly had to bring her thoughts back with an effort to Christina; she
must le