“People like ourselves, Valentine, must, for decency, conform to certain laws of conduct. The love that my first wife and I rediscovered for each other was not, within our secret hearts, in our power to control: yet it did not need even a word or a sign from either of us to tell the other that our love must never, no matter in what solitudes we might meet, be expressed. Her husband was a good man, and had always understood that our divorce had not been due to any uncleanliness or cruelty but to what is called, I think, incompatibility of temperament. So that until she died soon after, the three of us were devoted friends and constant companions. “And that,” said Mr. Lapwing from the shadows, “is all my story. More or less.” Valentine sat very still. Mr. Lapwing paced up and down. Silence walked with him. Valentine muttered. “I’m sorry. It’s a dreadful story. Good Lord, yes! May I have some more brandy, please?” “It’s not,” snapped Mr. Lapwing, “a dreadful story. It is a beautiful story. Help yourself.” “Well,” said Valentine, “call it beautiful if you like. It’s your story. But I should hate it to happen to me.” “There are,” said Mr. Lapwing, “consolations.” Mr. Lapwing paced up and down. “Consolations,” said Mr. Lapwing. Valentine said: “Oh, certainly. I suppose there always are consolations. All the same, I should hate to be done out of my son like that. For that’s what it comes to.” Mr. Lapwing was in a distant corner of the room, his face a shadow among shadows. He said: “Exactly. That is why, Valentine Chambers, I said there are consolations. My wife’s second husband was Lawrence Chambers.” Valentine said: “Oh!” Mr. Lapwing touched him on the shoulder. Valentine said: “Good Lord, I might have been your son!” “You might,” said Mr. Lapwing. “Easily. But it has come to almost the same thing in the end, hasn’t it? Except, perhaps, that I have not a father’s right to advise you.” Valentine said violently: “You’ve got every right in the world to advise me! Considering what you’ve done for me all my life!” “Then,” said Mr. Lapwing, “don’t be an ass.” Valentine saw Valerest’s mocking eyes, heard Valerest’s mocking laugh, and about his mind walked Mr. Tuppy with his old, unsmiling eyes. He muttered: “But, look here, Valerest will just think I’ve given in!” “So you have,” said Mr. Lapwing. “Well, then,” said Valentine bitterly, “it will all----” “She’ll grow,” said Mr. Lapwing. He was tired. “And, Valentine, she has got more right to be an ass than you have. Remember that. There’s no use being sentimental about it, but they put up with a lot of pain, women. Remember that. And----” “But look here,” said Valentine, “if I----” “Oh, go and make love to the girl!” snapped Mr. Lapwing. “And forget that a clergyman ever told you that she must obey you.” V