“Oh, not till Miss Lestrange came. I wasn’t going to marry him, or give him another thought, you know; I was going to laugh him off gently, and then she let out suddenly about you--and I saw!” “What did you see?” asked Edith almost sternly. “I saw your life,” said Helen of Troy, opening her eyes and fixing them on her companion’s face. “I saw your life, Edith, and I see it now.” “I don’t think you do,” said Edith calmly, “because you have not acted as if you did. Do you suppose I want to wreck the boy’s career?” “He’ll wreck his own career,” said Helen scornfully. “One rock or another, or else some one must wrap him in cotton-wool. He’s a spoilt peach--just that soft, little rotten spot a woman sees at once. _I_ don’t feel guilty. Of course, I saw what the she-cat had done--cut him adrift from you, and made your marriage a divided thing. I remembered everything you thought about love and marriage, and I guessed quickly enough you’d had your heart caught between two stones, and were having it crushed out of you. I thought if I used the boy he’d heal it all in three years. You only wanted your little chance, my dear, to make him love you from the bottom of his shallow little soul, and if your husband saw that, why, I suppose, even he would be convinced that things weren’t your fault.” “How do you know he thinks things are my fault now?” asked Edith quickly. “Have you ever known a man who didn’t hold the woman who loves him personally responsible for all the rubs of life?” asked Helen dryly. Edith did not answer--she smiled a little. After a moment’s pause she said: “You’re my friend, Helen?” “Don’t speak as if I had dozens,” said Helen. “I’ve only had one, and I don’t forget.” “Then you’ll laugh him away very gently--so gently that it won’t reach very far down?” cried Edith. “There isn’t very far to reach,” replied Helen irritably. “I don’t see why you always want to be saving people pain; pain does good.” “Does it?” asked Edith. Her eyes met Helen of Troy’s; they looked a long time into each other’s eyes. “No,” said Helen at last, “it starves, it ages, it embitters, it doesn’t do good.” “Well, I’d rather have it done to me than do it to other people,” said Edith. “It’s rather more responsibility than I care to undertake.” “Oh, I don’t know!” said Helen of Troy with a reckless gesture; “it’s a game like any other game. I wanted to pay back your score for you. I knew _you’d_ never do it. I kept out of your way, I never let on, and I didn’t suppose you’d find out for a day or two. I’m going to-morrow. I thought the little fool couldn’t tell you enough for you to work on, the first time he had spoken to you for years.” “He showed me your miniature,” said Edith gravely. Helen laughed. “My face is my fortune,” she said grimly. “Edith, I’ve made a lot of money!” “Yes, dear--yes,” said Edith; and she spoke soothingly as you speak to a hurt child.