Virginia Peruke sat up, with a mischievous light in her eyes. “I should simply love,” she said, “to see his apology. And yet,” she continued gently, “I should hate him to be all upset. You see, if ever he’s worried he always comes to me. And he couldn’t come to me about this. And—and I should feel awfully guilty and dreadfully mean.” “I don’t want her to come unbuttoned,” said Roger musingly. “I couldn’t bear that. But I’m out to stop the rot—without involvin’ ourselves.” Virginia interlaced ten rosy fingers. “I don’t quite know what I want,” she said, as though thinking aloud. “Yes, I do. I want Derry back—terribly. Yet I want him to be smacked—not hard, just enough to sting. But I couldn’t enjoy his smacking unless I was smacked too. Can you ever begin to understand? You see, we ought to be involved—if justice is to be done.” “That’s right,” said Roger. “You’ve assaulted the nail. My tail ought to be twisted, but not by Rosemary. Rosemary ought to be gingered but not by me. What we all want is a public executioner.” Virginia nodded. “That’s the idea,” she said. “Someone to clear the air. I don’t think we’ll need that notice. Any way, to-morrow we’ll know. And if this affair’s going strong, you can shove it in. But I don’t believe it is. If I love an’ cherish Derry, I think he’ll come back. And Rosemary too. What’s beginning to break my heart is that _things won’t be the same_. I’d jump at a general confession, but if they didn’t join in, it’d only make matters worse. If only something would happen to clear the air.” “The god in the car,” said Roger, nodding his head. “That’s the wallah we want. You know. The Greeks were poets all right, but they couldn’t write plays. They could mess up their characters’ lives, but when the time came they couldn’t straighten them out. And as it was a case—the audience bein’ strict—of a small hemlock or a happy endin’, in the last act they always roped in a god on board a truck who made the garden lovely before bringin’ the curtain down.” This admirable exposition was rudely received. “In fact,” said Virginia fiercely, “your wretched god in the car is about as much use to us as a witch in a fairy-tale. Upon my soul, what an idiot a man can be. I ask for ideas; and you hand me a lot of wash about——” “You said we wanted something to clear the air. I only corroborated——” “Who wants corroboration? Do you? I know I don’t. Do pull yourself together and try and think. It’ll seem strange at first, of course—using your brain. But you can sleep it off.” As the car turned into Pall Mall— “Any way,” said Roger thickly, “those two have opened my eyes. You’re undeniably lovely, but you’re devilish——” “Strict,” said Virginia, laying a hand on his arm. “Like your Athenian audience. I want a happy ending—so very much.” The man turned and looked at the beautiful face. This was eager, but the great grey eyes were wistful, and the exquisite mouth——