Lady Brereton began to think that she was almost wasting her time. She was aware, however, that her answer was critical, and gave it intense, though rapid, consideration. "Easily," she said. "Why not?" Jack raised his eyes to her face; she saw their frightened appeal, and knew that she had won. "Ah, you are tired of it all," he said. "You can make me wish I had never seen you if you behave obtusely," she said. "What have I done?" "You have been on the point of quarrelling with me as well as Marie. Surely that is obtuse enough. Quarrel with us one at a time, if you wish. To continue, she interfered unwarrantably in a thing that concerns me alone--I mean Maud's marriage." Jack smiled faintly. "I see what you mean," he said apologetically. "It is sufficiently clear. She interfered, and has seriously embarrassed me. The marriage will not take place as soon as I wished; in anger, I struck at her blindly." "Without considering me," said he. "Of course, without considering you. You did not occur to me, and even if you had I should not have considered you, for we settled just now that your attitude on that point was not--well, considerable. But I am glad now--I speak quite calmly--that I have done it. I do not like humbug; we have had a good deal of it. I shall before very long let Marie know what I have heard." "Said," interrupted Jack. "Heard. That will make a coolness between us, for she will be silently scornful of me. Oh, the truth is this, Jack--I am glad, yes, glad, that I am not going to pretend to be friends with Marie much longer. There are many good women who apparently do not mind hypocrisy, but there are many women who have no pretension whatever to be good who do not like being hypocrites. I am one. I shall not go to heaven when I die in any case, but I assure you that if I could by promising to talk about Sunday-schools to the saints I would refuse it. Now go away and have your row with Marie." "You advise that?" "I insist on it, else I should have wasted all my anger. Dear me, we are a sweet couple, you and I!" There was a ring of sudden bitter sincerity in her tone, and he looked up surprised. "What is the matter, Mildred?" he asked. "Anything, everything, nothing. Perhaps your absurd conduct, Jack; perhaps the thunderstorm which is certainly coming; perhaps reaction from my anger. Perhaps that I have got my way: I have started a scandal about Marie--got it successfully launched. I have the sickness of success. Oh, decidedly the only way to be happy is to want things, not to get them." "Want, then; it is easy enough." "I am beginning to wonder whether it is," said she. "I rather think that the faculty of wanting is a faculty which belongs to youth. Dear me! I am getting philosophical, and I beg your pardon. Tell me the news. When is the dissolution?" "Who knows? Not even the family, I believe, and I have not the honour of belonging to them. But, I imagine, not later than the end of July."