“_Come_.” She slipped her arm about his shoulder. “Wouldn’t you have loved me once for doing that? Am I terribly older--not quite what you expected? No, don’t tell me. Don’t lie to me. Life! It goes from us. When a woman’s lived merely to be beautiful, she’s reached the fag-end at forty. Seeing you so brave and tall, has brought that home to me. I’ll have to live whatever life I have left, through the beauty of Desire now. A little hard for a selfish woman! I trusted to my beauty to do everything. And I _was_ beautiful when first you knew me.” “And you’re still beautiful.” “Dear of you to say so! Still beautiful! In a way, yes. But,” she laughed scornfully, “with an effort--with such an effort. How I’d love to see myself the way I was when your father painted me. A garden enclosed, he called me, a spring shut up, a fountain sealed. You see, I remember. It was my remoteness that attracted then. All the men were at my feet, even your father. Oh, yes, he was; your mother knew it. Common men in the street, and little boys like you, and--and poor old Hal--they’d do anything for me if I raised an eyelash.” The maid brought in coffee. “Let’s sit down. No, not so far away--quite near to me, for old times’ sake, my littlest lover. D’you mind if I smoke a cigarette? Mrs. Sheerug, dear old Mrs. Sheerug, she wouldn’t approve of it. I always loved her and wanted her to think well of me. She’d never believe that. You’re a bit shocked yourself. I don’t often do it before my baby-girl. But tell me,” she sank her voice, “what about Hal?” He tried to think of things to tell her. What was there to tell? Good fortune had worked no change in Hal. Money hadn’t made him happier. He was a man thrust forward by the years, but always with his face turned back. “Ah,” she whispered, “I know. Don’t go any further. He would be like that. He lives remembering.” Her grip on Teddy’s hands tightened. “Learn a lesson. Don’t be kind to women, Teddy. You’ll get no thanks. A woman’s mean-hearted. If a man’s too good to her, she doesn’t try to be nobly good in return; she takes advantage. She plays pranks with him--wants to see how much he’ll forgive her; if he’s still magnanimous, she despises him. It takes a good woman to appreciate a good man; few women are both good and beautiful. It wasn’t till Mary Magdalene had lost her looks that she broke the alabaster box of ointment. What I mean is that beautiful women are cruel; God gives them too much power. Oh, yes, it’s true. Desire’s like that--sweetly ungrateful. I can see myself in her. A man’ll have to be a brute to make her love him.--Ah, you almost hate me! I wish she could make you hate her so that you’d go home to Eden Row, and--oh, do big work and marry another Dearie. I’m fond of you, Teddy.” She let go his hands. “When we’re forty, we beautiful women learn to be gentle, and--and you thank us, don’t you?” She got up and buried her face in the lilies. “Sent them to her, eh? Hoped you’d find her wearing them.”