"If this sort of thing keeps on," Mrs. Delancy announced, with another access of self-pity, "your Uncle Jim and I probably will be parted by that time, too!" "Nonsense!" Cicily jeered, smitten to sudden compunction for her part in causing distress of mind to the woman whom she really loved and honored. "Why, Auntie, if you were to leave Uncle Jim, whom would he have to bully? Pooh, dear, you and he'll never part." Again, the old lady's thoughts veered from herself. "But, Cicily," she ventured, "you're doing your best to prolong the strike. You're actually giving those women money, I know. Yesterday, when I called to see you, I saw the stub in your chequebook, which was lying open on the desk in your boudoir. I didn't mean to pry, but I couldn't help seeing it." "Well, I'm not letting them starve," was the unashamed admission. "Cicily," Mrs. Delancy said, with an abrupt transition from one phase of the subject under consideration to another, "about this matter of you and Charles separating, I have a suspicion that you are very much like that highly improper young woman in the French story, who was going to live with her lover as long as the geranium lasted. And you're going to live in the house with Charles while his troubles continue. And that improper young woman used to get up in the night, every night, to water the geranium, secretly. And you are providing the strikers with food, to prolong the strike. Humph! You don't want to go." Cicily blushed a little, but attempted no reply. "You're in love with him--you know you are!" The young wife's reserve broke down a little before the keen glance that accompanied the words. "I--oh, I'm interested in his spiritual development," she stammered, weakly. "Anyhow," she added defensively, "he--doesn't know it!" "Thank heaven, you're still moral!" Mrs. Delancy ejaculated, in accents of huge relief. "I think I must be," was the low-spoken admission, "because--because I'm so unhappy!" The scarlet lips drooped to a tremulous pathos, as she went on speaking in a voice of poignant feeling. "Oh, Aunt Emma, when I see Charles so harassed, so tired, so troubled in every way, I just long to throw my arms around his neck, and to kiss all those hard lines away from his dear face, and to tell him how much I love him, and how sorry I am, and how much I want to help him." "Heaven bless you, child!" Mrs. Delancy exclaimed, surprised and delighted. "Why don't you, then?" "Because," came the gloomy explanation, "if I did, I'd be like you." The old lady was not gratified by this candid defense. "Humph! Well, you might do worse, if I do say so myself," she declared, with a toss of her head. "Of course, you old dear," Cicily agreed, with an air of humility, "in lots and lots of ways--but--" "You're obstinate!" came the tart rebuke. "If you're really in love with him, give in!"