ing the substance of them, and remoulding it for
purposes of self-government; as I do, now. . . . Once, oppressed by form
and theory, I told you that to remarry after divorce was a slap at
civilisation. . . . Which is true sometimes and sometimes not. Common
sense, not laws, must govern a man in that matter. But if any motive
except desire to be a decent citizen sways a self-punished man toward
self-leniency, then is he unpardonable if he breaks those laws which
truly were fashioned for such as he!"

"Saint Simon! Saint Simon! Will you please arise, stretch your limbs,
and descend from your pillar?" said Nina; "because I am going to say
something that is very, very serious; and very near my heart."

"I remember," he said; "it's about Eileen, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is about Eileen."

He waited; and again his sister's eyes began restlessly searching his
for something that she seemed unable to find.

"You make it a little difficult, Phil; I don't believe I had better
speak of it."

"Why not?"

"Why, just because you ask me 'why not?' for example."

"Is it anything that worries you about Eileen?"

"N-no; not exactly. It is--it may be a phase; and yet I know that if it
is anything at all it is not a passing phase. She is different from the
majority, you see--very intelligent, very direct. She never
forgets--for example. Her loyalty is quite remarkable, Phil. She is very
intense in her--her beliefs--the more so because she is unusually free
from impulse--even quite ignorant of the deeper emotions; or so I
believed until--until--"

"Is she in _love_?" he asked.

"A little, Phil."

"Does she admit it?" he demanded, unpleasantly astonished.

"She admits it in a dozen innocent ways to me who can understand her;
but to herself she has not admitted it, I think--could not admit it yet;
because--because--"

"Who is it?" asked Selwyn; and there was in his voice the slightest
undertone of a growl.

"Dear, shall I tell you?"

"Why not?"

"Because--because--Phil, I think that our pretty Eileen is a little in
love with--you."

He straightened out to his full height, scarlet to the temples; she
dropped her linked fingers in her lap, gazing at him almost sadly.

"Dear, all the things you are preparing to shout at me are quite
useless; I _know_; I don't imagine, I don't forestall, I don't predict.
I am not discounting any hopes of mine, because, Phil, I had not
thought--had not planned such a thing--between you and Ei