'Bruce doesn't seem to matter so much.' 'Because he isn't fighting?' asked Sir Tito. 'Oh no, Landi! I never thought of that. But you know he always imagines himself ill, and he's quite all right really. He'll enjoy his grievance. I _know_ he won't be unhappy. And he's older, and he's not tied to that silly, mad girl he ran away with. And besides, I'm older. This is probably _my_ last chance!' She looked at Landi imploringly, as if begging his permission. He answered calmly: 'Ecoute, cherie. When do you see him again?' 'I'm to take him for a drive tomorrow.' 'My dear Edith, promise me one thing; don't undertake anything yet.' 'But why not?' 'You mustn't. This may be merely an impulse; you may change again. It may be a passing mood.' 'I don't think it is,' said Edith. 'Anyhow, it's my wish at present. It's the result of thinking, remember--not of his persuasion.' 'Go for a drive, but give him no hope yet.' He took both her hands. 'Make no promise, except to me. Don't I know you well? I doubt if you could do it.' 'Yes, I could! I could go through _anything_ if I were determined, and if I had the children safe.' 'Never mind that for the present. Live for the day. Will you promise me that?' She hesitated for a moment. Then he said: 'Really, dear, it's too serious to be impulsive about. Take time.' 'Very well, Landi. I promise you that.' 'Then we'll meet again afterwards and talk it over. I'll come and see you.' 'Very well. And mustn't I tell him anything? Not make him a little bit happy?' 'Tell him nothing. Be nice to him. Enjoy your drive. Put off all decision at present.' He looked at her. Her eyes were sparkling, her colour, her expression were deepened. She looked all animation, with more life than he had ever seen in her.... Somehow the sight made his heart ache a little, a very little. Poor girl! Of course she had been starving for love, and hidden the longing under domestic interests, artistic, social, but human. But she deserved real love, a real lover. She was so loyal, so true herself. 'Tiens! You look like a lamp that has been lighted,' said Sir Tito, chuckling a little to himself. 'Eh, bien!--and the pretty nurse? Does she still dance the Cachuca? I know I'm old-fashioned, but it's impossible for me not to associate everything Spanish with the ridiculous. I think of guitars, mantillas, sombreros, or--what else is it? Ah, I know--onions.' 'She isn't even Spanish, really!' 'Then why did you deceive me?' said Landi, a shade absently, with a glance at his watch and another in the mirror. 'She can't remain with Aylmer. She knows it herself. I'm trying to arrange for her to become a companion for Lady Conroy.' He laughed. 'You are more particular about her being chaperoned than you were last week.' 'Landi, Aylmer will never care for her. She's a dear, but he won't.' 'Tu ne l'a pas revu? Lui--Aylmer?' 'No, but he's written to me.'