his keen perception of the details which can fret
a woman so sorely in proportion to their apparent unimportance.

St. John hardly seemed to hear her, for he continued:

"And I want to give her freedom--freedom from marriage if she wishes it.
That's why I stipulate that the income ceases If she marries. I'm trying
to weight the balance against her marrying."

Penelope looked at him questioningly.

"But why? Surely love is the best thing of all?"

"Love and marriage, my dear, are two very different things," commented
St. John, with an unwonted touch of cynicism. After a moment he went on:
"Annabel and I--we loved. But I couldn't make her happy. Our
temperaments were unsuited, we looked out on life from different windows.
I'm not at all sure"--reflectively--"that the union of sympathetic
temperaments, even where less love is, does not result in a much larger
degree of happiness than the union of opposites, where there is great
love. The jar and fret is there, despite the attraction, and love
starves in an atmosphere of discord. For the race, probably the
mysterious attraction of opposites will produce the best results. But
for individual happiness the sympathetic temperament is the first
necessity."

There was a silence, Penelope feeling that Lord St. John had crystallised
in words, thoughts and theories that she sensed as being the foundation
of her own opinions, hitherto unrecognised and nebulous.

Presently he spoke again.

"And I don't really think men are at all suited to have the care and
guardianship of women."

"Unfortunately they're all that Providence has seen fit to provide,"
replied Penelope, with her usual bluntly philosophical acceptance of
facts.

"And yet--we men don't understand women. We're constantly hurting them
with our clumsy misconceptions--with our failure to respond to their
complexities."

Penelope's eyes grew kind.

"I don't think you would," she said.

"Ah, my dear, I'm an old man now and perhaps I understand. But there was
a time when I understood no better than the average youngster who gaily
asks some nice woman to trust her future in his hands--without a second
thought as to whether he's fit for such a trust. And that was just the
time when a little understanding would have given happiness to the woman
I loved best on earth."

He spoke rather wearily, but contrived a smile as Nan entered, carrying a
cup of coffee in her hand.

"My compliments, Nan. Your coffe