It was Ruth who spoke first. "Well," she said, "of course you know I've been asked down to make peace." It was so unexpected that Helena did actually smile. "To make me a good girl," she emended. "I'm afraid," laughed Ruth, "as usual with children, you are both to blame." It all seemed easy in a moment. Helena suddenly felt the thick clouds of misery lift from her soul. She believed in Ruth. The whole air of the little room appeared to change from stiff hostility to friendly hope. Tea seemed a thousand years ago. She gave a cheery little laugh. "Look here," said Ruth, encouraged, "I'm so glad you're taking it like this; I hated coming down. I know how people feel about in-laws and I thought you'd think I had come down to side with Hubert blindly. I've not, a bit. I'm very fond of him, but I see all his faults. I only want him to be happy. I'm forty, you know, and I've seen a good deal of things, so possibly----" She broke off and said, by an abrupt change; "You see, I lived with him for years and years so I can understand. He's difficult, I know, when you're with him, but when you get away--isn't he a dear?" She smiled. "He's _more_ than that," said Helena, suddenly wanting to cry. She had said it unthinking, moved by the other's appeal, but to Ruth it was everything, for it meant that her task was easy. She embarked with confidence. "When I first lived with him," she began, "I met a lot of well-known writers, artists, actors. He used to go out more then, and it flattered him to meet men who were famous. Well, I came to the conclusion that the greatest men are the most tragic, the most pathetically childish. I suppose you _have_ to be self-centred to succeed; and then somehow, they can't get used to the little things. You know how press-notices upset poor Hubert? Well, they're all like that about something or other. You see, you married a man of that sort and you must make allowances." "Oh, I do," said Helena, leaping at self-defence. "I always did. It's _him_. He won't forgive me, won't believe I'm sorry, won't let me put things right. You don't know what this week has been. I can't endure it, really." "And so," asked Ruth, "you mean to write another book?" Helena for just one moment scented battle and replied more stiffly. She would not throw her arms down till she knew there was to be no fighting. "What do you expect me to do, otherwise? He won't allow me to see other men, won't talk to me himself. A little house like this is nothing. What am I to do? It isn't even as though I'd a child." Ruth answered very slowly. "Hugh is just a child," she said with a great tenderness.