ready to make you see it as it really is,
if you ever return there."

She had spoken without hardness or any pugnacity; there was no defiance
in her manner, which was perfectly simple and straightforward.

"Your moral comparison between Constantinople and Greece--it isn't fair,
by the way, to compare a city with a country--doesn't interest me at
all. People can be disgusting anywhere. Greece is no better than
Turkey. It has a wonderfully delicate, pure atmosphere; but that doesn't
influence the morals of the population. Fine Greek art is the purest art
in the world; but that doesn't mean that the men who created it had only
pure thoughts or lived only pure lives. I never read morals into art,
although I'm English, and it's the old hopeless English way to do
that. The man who made Echo"--she turned her large eyes towards the
statuette--"may have been an evil liver. In fact, I believe he was. But
Echo is an exquisite pure bit of art."

Dion thought of Rosamund's words about Praxiteles as they sat before
Hermes. His Rosamund and Mrs. Clarke were mentally at opposite poles;
yet they were both good women.

"My friend Daventry would agree with you, I know," he said.

"He's a clever and a very dear little man. Who's that coming in?"

Dion looked and saw Canon Wilton. He told Mrs. Clarke who it was.

"Enid told me he was coming. I should like to know him."

"Shall I go and tell him so?"

"Presently. How's your baby? I'm told you've got a baby."

Dion actually blushed. Mrs. Clarke gazed at the blush, and no doubt
thoroughly understood it, but she did not smile, or look arch, or full
of feminine understanding.

"It's very well, thank you. It's just like other babies."

"So was mine. Babies are always said to be wonderful, and never are.
And we love ours chiefly because they aren't. I hate things with wings
growing out of their shoulders. My boy's a very naughty boy."

They talked about the baby, and then about Mrs. Clarke's son of ten;
and then Canon Wilton came up, shook hands warmly with Dion, and was
introduced by Mrs. Chetwinde to Mrs. Clarke.

Presently, from the other side of the room where he was standing with
Esme Darlington, Dion saw them in conversation; saw Mrs. Clarke's eyes
fixed on the Canon's almost fiercely sincere face.

"It's going to be an abominable case," murmured Mr. Darlington in Dion's
ear. "We must all stand round her."

"I can't imagine how any one could think such a woman guilty," sai