Carthew's honest eyes lingered on her face in a manner which she could not fathom. Did the man love her, or was he pitying her, or was he merely indulging in sarcastic reflections at her expense? Whatever his motives, he had a knack of compelling attention. Presently he began to speak. "I wonder," he said, as if talking to himself, "why men and women are made as they are? Why does A love B, while B worships C, who cares for no one in the world but himself? And why does D insist on confusing things still further by not quite knowing what he--she--wants? I wonder! They say there is enough money spent in charity every year to supply the needs of every poor person living, but so much is misapplied that many have to go without. I think it is the same with human affection. There is so much true love going about in this world--enough to keep all of us well-nourished and contented. But what a lot of it goes to waste! There is so much overlapping! _Why_, I wonder? It is a difficult business, Life, Daphne." He had never called her Daphne before, but neither of them seemed to notice the familiarity. "We're a contrary crew, we mortals," he continued presently. "Here we are, you and I, sitting in the moonshine inaugurating a flirtation, though neither of us cares a snap for the other--in that way. Why, I wonder? I think it is partly due to pride--wounded pride. You are angry with your husband----" Daphne, who was methodically picking her cigarette to pieces, looked up indignantly. "I'm _not_!" she said hotly. "Oh yes, you are," replied Carthew. "You think you are not, but you are. You try to believe that you are merely indifferent to him, but you are not. As for me, I am angry too--piqued--furious--jealous--raging--I admit it--with a girl whom I dislike intensely. The more I see of her the more selfish, affected, shallow, unwomanly I see her to be. And yet--I _love_ her! Why? Why? Why? People tell me she is heartless, soulless, sordid, greedy, vulgar--everything, in fact. Sometimes I feel they are right. Still--" he dropped his head into his hands and continued doggedly--"what difference does that make to _me_? I love her!... She cared for me once, too. She told me so--and she meant it! Perhaps if I had been a little more patient with her I might have kept her, and--and helped her a bit. Perhaps that was what I was sent into the world for--to make things easier for Nina. I could have done so much for her, too. I could have made a woman of her. She has her soft side: I know: I have seen it. No other man can say that. Meanwhile," he continued with a whimsical smile, "I am trying to solace myself by allowing you to flirt with me----" Daphne drew her breath sharply. "And you are not very good at it," concluded Carthew unexpectedly. "You are very candid," said Daphne frigidly.