"I had no object but that of living in a part of London which was familiar to me--and of being amongst friends. You have no right at all to call me to account in this way." "So I said a few minutes ago. But you remarked that you wished me to understand and approve of your proceedings. I am only trying to get at your motives--if you have any." Mrs. Romaine was tempted to say that she had no motives. But she did not think that Oliver would believe her. "Here you are," he went on, in his soft, slow voice, "in friendly--I might say familiar--relations with this man again. His wife is still living, and as bitter against him as ever, but not likely to give him any pretext for a divorce. You cannot marry him. Why do you provoke people to say ill-natured things about you by continuing so aimless a friendship?" "I don't think that any one would take the trouble of saying ill-natured things about me, Oliver," said Mrs. Romaine, forcing a smile. "We are too conventional, too advanced, now-a-days, for that kind of thing. Friendship between a man and woman is by no means the abnormal and unheard-of thing that it used to be." "You are not so free as you think you are. You are still good-looking--still young. You cannot afford to defy the world. And I cannot afford to defy it either. I don't mind a reasonable amount of laxity, but I do not want my sister to be the heroine of a scandal." "I think you might trust me to take care of myself." "I would not say a word if Brooke were a widower. Although I don't like him, I acknowledge that he is the sort of big blundering brute that suits some women. But there's no chance with him, so why should you make a fool of yourself?" Mrs. Romaine turned round with a fierce little gesture of contradiction, but restrained herself, and did not speak for a minute or two. "What do you want me to do?" she said at last, in rather a breathless kind of way. "Well, my dear Rosy, since you ask me, I should say that it would be far wiser to drop Brooke's acquaintance." "That is impossible." "And why impossible?" "His daughter is coming to him for a year: he has been here to-night to ask me to call on her--to chaperone her sometimes." "Is the man a fool?" said Oliver. "I think," Mrs. Romaine answered, somewhat unsteadily, "that Mr. Brooke never knew--exactly--that his wife was jealous of me." "Oh, that's too much to say. He must have known." "I am pretty sure that he did not. From things that he has said to me, I feel certain that he attributed only a passing irritation to her on my account. You do not believe me, Oliver; but I think that he is perfectly ignorant of the real cause of her leaving him." "And _you_ know it?" "I know it, and Lady Alice knows it: no one else." "What was it, then? You mean more than simple jealousy, I see." "Yes, but--I am not obliged to tell you what it was."