"Do you know," he said, "I think that all things are possible to two people who are prepared to make allowances for one another? You and the man you speak of both possess strong natures. You both wanted to be master. You both hated conceding anything. He regarded the acts of worship that a woman expects of the man who loves her as a form of humiliation; he was content to make good by material homage--presents, theatres, and so on. You on your part felt that in accepting these things from him you were weakening your own independence and laying yourself under an obligation to him. So he, when he made actual love to you, did so reluctantly and half-heartedly--didn't he?" "I should think he did!" affirmed the epicurean Miss Jennings. "--While you could never accept his gifts and his arrangements for your entertainment without just a little--what shall we say?--a dash of vinegar?" The girl nodded. "That's it," she said. "Now," proceeded Philip, too much immersed in his subject to be surprised at his own fluency, "when two people who love one another reach that stage, they must get over it at once, or there will be friction, and finally disaster. Each must learn at once to consider things from the other's point of view--make allowances, in fact. Brand ought to--" "Who?" enquired a sharp voice at his side. "--Brand. It was Brand, wasn't it?" Miss Jennings nodded. "Yes," she said simply, "it was Brand. Go on." "Brand," continued Philip, "ought to have remembered that you were a woman, with all a woman's reserve and instinct of self-defence; and that you could not be expected to wear your heart upon your sleeve." "Yes, he ought to have remembered that," agreed Miss Jennings. "But what about me? What should I have remembered?" She appeared almost anxious to be scolded. "This," said Philip--"that Brand was a proud, passionate man, of very humble birth, terrified of showing you his heart and being laughed at for his pains--" The girl nodded again. "Yes," she said, "you are right. I ought to have remembered that. I forgot his feelings sometimes. Poor Bob!" she added pensively. "So you see," concluded Philip, thankful to feel that his homily was almost delivered, "if only you two could get accustomed to regarding one another in that light, the barrier would be down for ever. A barrier can never stand for a moment when it is attacked from both sides. Make allowances, Miss Jennings! Make allowances! Get to know one another; study one another; appreciate one another! Then Brand can pour out for you all that shy, inarticulate worship of his, without fear of indifference or ridicule, and you can surrender with all the honours of war. Will you try?" "Will I try?" echoed Miss Jennings wonderingly. "Isn't it a little late in the day?" "Well--would you try?"