impregnated with moisture, but
she did not say so, having no desire to contribute her quota of pats to
this air-ball, or to encourage the superficial workings of his mind
just then. She quietly awaited the response to her appeal to his deeper
nature which she felt certain would be forthcoming. Presently it came.

"It is awfully good of you, Miss Champion, to take the trouble to think
all this and to say it to me. May I prove my gratitude by explaining
for once where my difficulty lies? I have scarcely defined it to
myself, and yet I believe I can express it to you." Another long
silence. Garth smoked and pondered.

Jane waited. It was a very comprehending, very companionable silence.
Garth found himself parodying the last lines of an old
sixteenth-century song:

"Then ever pray that heaven may send
Such weeds, such chairs, and such a friend."

Either the cigarette, or the chair, or Jane, or perhaps all three
combined were producing in him a sublime sense of calm, and rest, and
well-being; an uplifting of spirit which made all good things seem
better; all difficult things, easy; and all ideals, possible. The
silence, like the sunset, was golden; but at last he broke it.

"Two women--the only two women who have ever really been in my
life--form for me a standard below which I cannot fall,--one, my
mother, a sacred and ideal memory; the other, old Margery Graem, my
childhood's friend and nurse, now my housekeeper and general tender and
mender. Her faithful heart and constant remembrance help to keep me
true to the ideal of that sweet presence which faded from beside me
when I stood on the threshold of manhood. Margery lives at Castle
Gleneesh. When I return home, the sight which first meets my eyes as
the hall door opens is old Margery in her black satin apron, lawn
kerchief, and lavender ribbons. I always feel seven then, and I always
hug her. You, Miss Champion, don't like me when I feel seven; but
Margery does. Now, this is what I want you to realise. When I bring a
bride to Gleneesh and present her to Margery, the kind old eyes will
try to see nothing but good; the faithful old heart will yearn to love
and serve. And yet I shall know she knows the standard, just as I know
it; I shall know she remembers the ideal of gentle, tender, Christian
womanhood, just as I remember it; and I must not, I dare not, fall
short. Believe me, Miss Champion, more than once, when physical
attraction has been strong, and I h