“A woman can make or mar a man’s life,” said he. “Happy are they who draw the prizes. Goodbye!” He sprang upon his horse and galloped away. Olive stood watching him, her eyes swimming in tears, she scarcely knew why, only he seemed so sad and so handsome. Ezra was unkind to say she must never see him any more and try to make his life less sad and wicked, and she was so sorry to think that she would never have any more talks with him. At this moment a low growl from Diana made Olive turn round to encounter the clear cool gaze of Madame Morozoff-Smith. “I followed you down here,” she said. “Napoleon Pompey told me that you were most likely gone to the spring.” “Have you been here long?” asked Olive, blushing in her surprise and confusion. “I only came for a pail of fresh water.” “No, I just saw Mr. Cotterell say good-bye and ride off,” observed Madame gently. “Do you see him often? He hasn’t a good reputation.” “I don’t believe he is as bad as people say, I am very sorry for him living alone.” “He need not have been alone only that he chose it, indeed it ought to have been quite otherwise, if report goes true.” “We ought to be the last persons on earth to credit reports,” said Olive hotly. “I am sure there is a nice crop of them about us and our life here at Perfection City, if it comes to that.” “True, I daresay there are,” said Madame. “One should be charitable.” Olive was evidently ill at ease, and Madame drawing from a totally different experience of life her own conclusions, became convinced that Ezra’s wife was carrying on a secret acquaintanceship with a man of whom he thought very ill. Madame’s position as leader at Perfection City gave her many rights and imposed certain duties. She considered that of private admonition as one of them. She did not speak for some moments, and the two walked along in silence. Madame was debating in her own mind whether she should speak to Olive and endeavour to turn her from the dangerous path towards which she seemed to be directing her steps; or whether she should keep silence and let her destiny be accomplished. She reflected that if she spoke to Olive, that rather high-spirited young woman would probably resent her interference, and might possibly complain to Ezra, with the result of estranging him from herself. On the other hand, if she left the silly wife to go her foolish way, she would break her husband’s heart. Madame’s well-shaped lips curled with a smile of contempt for herself as these thoughts passed rapidly through her brain. What a fool she was to stir in the matter! Let the giddy girl follow her own impulses and then—No, no! She would be true to her best self, she would put forth a hand and draw back the blind fool from the precipice that lay before her. She spoke therefore to Olive in that soft quiet voice of hers that seemed to have more power of arresting the attention and holding it than the roar of an avalanche.