“Of course you do not. Only women themselves understand that the two times when one must fear a woman are when she hates, and when she loves--after a kind. When she gets wicked or mad enough to hate, either through jealousy or because she cannot love where she would, she is merciless. She does not know the honour of the game. She has no pity. Then, sometimes when she loves in a way, she is, as you say, most selfish. I mean a love which--is not possible. Then she does some mad act--all women are a little mad sometimes. Most of us wish to be good, but we are quicksilver....” Roscoe’s mind had been working fast. He saw she meant to warn him against Mrs. Falchion. His face flushed slightly. He knew that Justine had thought well of him, and now he knew also that she suspected something not creditable or, at least, hazardous in his life. “And the man--the man whom the woman hates?” “When the woman hates--and loves too, the man is in danger.” “Do you know of such a man?” he almost shrinkingly said. “If I did I would say to him, The world is wide. There is no glory in fighting a woman who will not be fair in battle. She will say what may appear to be true, but what she knows in her own heart to be false--false and bad.” Roscoe now saw that Justine had more than an inkling of his story. He said calmly: “You would advise that man to flee from danger?” “Yes, to flee,” she replied hurriedly, with a strange anxiety in her eyes; “for sometimes a woman is not satisfied with words that kill. She becomes less than human, and is like Jael.” Justine knew that Mrs. Falchion held a sword over Roscoe’s career; she guessed that Mrs. Falchion both cared for him and hated him too; but she did not know the true reason of the hatred--that only came out afterwards. Woman-like, she exaggerated in order that she might move him; but her motive was good, and what she said was not out of keeping with the facts of life. “The man’s life even might be in danger?” he asked. “It might.” “But surely that is not so dreadful,” he still said calmly. “Death is not the worst of evils.” “No, not the worst; one has to think of the evil word as well. The evil word can be outlived; but the man must think of those who really love him--who would die to save him--and whose hearts would break if he were killed. Love can outlive slander, but it is bitter when it has to outlive both slander and death. It is easy to love with joy so long as both live, though there are worlds between. Thoughts fly and meet; but Death makes the great division.... Love can only live in the pleasant world.” Very abstractedly he said: “Is it a pleasant world to you?” She did not reply directly to that, but answered: “Monsieur, if you know of such a man as I speak of, warn him to fly.” And she raised her eyes from the ground and looked earnestly at him. Now her face was slightly flushed, she looked almost beautiful.