Mr. De Jarnette smiled grimly. "I admit it. I have made no pretence of denying it to myself, and since you seem rather skilful at diagnosis, I suppose it is not worth while to deny it to you. The truth is, Semple," the explanatory tone had in it almost an appeal, "I have looked out for this boy's welfare since the day--" his face darkened--"the day he so sorely needed it. I--I suppose I have got in the habit of it." "You've spoiled him. There's no doubt of that," agreed his companion cheerfully. "But I should think that now you would be glad to see his future in the hands of a good woman like Margaret Varnum. It is a safeguard, Dick,--one that you and I haven't availed ourselves of, it is true, but still a safeguard. I am sure of it." "You are sure of nothing where a woman is concerned," declared Richard De Jarnette, deliberately. "You may think you are, listening to their protestations, but you will find out your mistake sooner or later. They are treacherous, Bob. You cast your pearls before them and when they find they are not diamonds, they turn and rend you. I know them. They are not to be trusted." "There are women and women, I suppose. You will agree that there are several varieties of men. There is Slyter, for instance." "Slyter is a beast," said Mr. De Jarnette, with a gesture of disgust. "He belongs to our sex. We can't disown him, much as we would like to. But we would hardly wish to be judged by him. If you belonged to my profession, De Jarnette, you would know women better and do them more justice." "I know them--know them better than you do. At least, I know a side of them that you have never seen because you have never been to school to them." Dr. Semple threw his head back and blew out slowly what seemed to be an inexhaustible volume of smoke. Every thought seemed concentrated upon it. When the last of it had floated off into thin air he remarked quietly, "You have never quite got over it, Dick." He had deliberately pushed aside the sign and walked into the forbidden grounds. Somewhat to his surprise, for he hardly knew himself how it would be taken, he found his friend walking by his side. Mr. De Jarnette flipped the ash from his cigar and then answered composedly, "I have got over it so entirely that the sight of her causes no more commotion in my breast than the vision of the scrub lady who daily puts the outer hall in order. I hope you are wasting no sympathy upon me. I haven't even any bitterness about it,--and certainly no regret. It has simply left me with more knowledge of women. That is all. And that is worth all it cost. It is what has rendered me immune all these years. 'A burnt child,' you know." An expression of curious relief came into the physician's face. "Do you know, Dick, I have always had a lingering ghost of a fear--now that she is a widow--and it would be possible, don't you know, that--"