"Well, what do you think of her now?" "I think she's pretty, as I said. You may think her beautiful. I daresay plenty of men would; that sort of thing's a question of taste. I tell you what I do think beautiful--that's these diamonds. The sapphires and the pearls are all very well, but the diamonds are the stones for me." "You would think that. You're the sort of woman who'd admire a gaudy frame, and have no eyes for the picture that was in it. If you like I'll tell you who she is and all about her. It may seem like sacrilege to talk of her to you, but I think I'll tell you all the same." "Tell away. I suppose it's the old, old story: she met some one she fancied more than you. Men always do think that sort of thing is wonderful. But I don't mind listening." "Yes, there was some one she liked better than me. That was the trouble." "It generally is, while it lasts; then it turns out to be a blessing. But, of course, you've never had the chance." "As you say, I've never had the chance. Her name--I won't tell you her name--though why shouldn't I? Her name is Margaret Wallace." "Scotch, is she?" "Her father was Scotch, her mother English. He was my dearest friend. When he died----" "He left his only daughter, then a mere child, and that was all." "That was all, and as you say she was a mere child. You seem to have had some experiences of your own." "One or two. I'm more than seven." "So I should imagine." "You took her to your own home, found her in food and washing, and pocket-money now and then. As she grew older her wondrous beauty and her many virtues--especially the first lot--warmed your withered heart. When she attained to womanhood you breathed to her the secret of your passion, which she had spotted about eighteen years before; but as she didn't happen to be taking any, of course the band began to play. Isn't that the sort of story you were going to tell, only I daresay you wouldn't have told it in quite that way?" "I certainly shouldn't have told it in quite that way." "You had expended on her two hundred and forty-nine pounds nineteen and sixpence ha'penny, besides any amount of fuss, so her ingratitude stung you to the marrow. Still you might have borne with her; you might not even have altered the will which you had made in her favour, and which you kept shaking in her face; only when she took up with another chap she seemed to be coming it a bit too thick. You cried in your anger, 'I'll make you smart for this, my beauty!' So you started to make her smart; but it seems to me that you've done most of the smarting up to now. Was it her cruelty which made you the pretty sight you are?" "Not altogether." "Not altogether! You don't mean to say that when you wanted her to be your wife you were anything like what you are now? A nice kind of love yours must have been!" "I appear to have acquired a really delightful wife."