The intuition, quick as it was, had its limits; maybe it worked better on women than on men, or perhaps Marie's mind was somewhat matter-of-fact and apt to abide within obvious alternatives--such as "He's in love, or he's not--and there's an end of it!" Arthur loved his cousin's wife, without doubt. But, so far at least, it was an adoration, not a passion; an ardour, not a pursuit. He asked no more than he received--leave to see her, to be with her, to enjoy her presence, and in so doing to be welcome and pleasant to her. Above all--as a dim and distant aspiration, to which circumstances hitherto had shown no favour--to serve her, help her, be her champion. This exalted sentiment, these rarefied emotions, escaped the analysis of Marie's intuition. What she saw was an Arthur who squandered all the jewels of his heart and got nothing for them; whereas in truth up to now he was content; he was paid his price and counted himself beyond measure a gainer by the bargain. Who was the other man--the man of quiet demeanour and resolute face, who had so held her attention, who had so tactfully resigned the pleasure of her company? Marie's mind, quick again to the obvious, fastened on this question. Bernadette, under friendly pressure, rose from a hope to an intention. "I will come to the first night," she declared. "I will if I possibly can." "Now is that a promise, Mrs. Lisle?" asked Joe eagerly. After all, the farce was his discovery, in a special sense his property. He had the best right to a paternal pride in it. "It's a promise, with a condition," said Arthur, laughing. "She will--if she can. Now I don't think promises like that are worth much. Do you, Marie?" "It's the most prudent sort of promise to give." "Yes, but it never contents a man," Bernadette complained. "Men are so exacting and so--so tempestuous." She broke into a little laugh, rather fretful. "Now am I tempestuous?" Arthur asked, with a protesting gesture of his hands. "Oh, you're not all the world, Arthur," she told him, just a little scornfully, but with a consoling pat on the arm. "You know what I mean, Miss Sarradet? They want things so definite--all in black and white! And if they can't have them like that, they tell you you're a shillyshallying sort of person without a mind and, as I say, get tempestuous about it." Joe had regained some of his self-confidence. "If anybody bothers you like that, just you send him to me, Mrs. Lisle. I'll settle him!" His manner conveyed a jocose ferocity. "I wish you would! I mean, I wonder if you could. They talk as if one's mind only existed to be made up--like a prescription. One's mind isn't a medicine! It's a--a--What is it, Arthur?" "It's a faculty given us for the agreeable contemplation and appreciation of the world." "Quite right!" declared Bernadette in emphatic approval. "That's exactly what I think." "It would clearly promote your agreeable appreciation of the world to come to our first night, Mrs. Lisle," urged Joe.