“I don’t mean that. I mean Kellock’s not all a man, as I’ve just said. You may say he’s a bit of a saint, or you may say he’s only half baked; but say what you like, the fact remains he’s different from other men and his opinions guide his conduct, which is a lot more than opinions always do. He’s told me that she’s not his wife in any sort of way—far too much respect for her and himself. That’s gospel you may be sure, for he’d rather die than lie.” “She’ll soon get fed up with that,” said Dingle. “Sooner than him I dare say; but so it is, and I’m glad to let you know it. I shook him by telling him he was a child in these things and that the law would refuse to let you divorce Mrs. Dingle, if it knew he was not fulfilling its requirements. But he’s got a feeling of contempt for the divorce laws which, of course, every decent man must share—a feeling of contempt which extends to the lawyers who live by them, and the parsons who like ’em. I give him all credit there.” “And how do these fine ideas strike my wife that was?” asked Ned. “Because if I knew anything about her in her palmy days, she was built of quite different mud from that.” “How it strikes her I can’t tell you, because her opinions are hid from me. Perhaps Mrs. Trivett’s heard her views upon the subject. She may not agree with Kellock; but more likely he’s made her do so—especially seeing it won’t pay her to have any other opinions than his in future.” “He’ll never break her in, Knox.” “He will, give him time. There’s something about him that makes weaker wills go down sooner or late. He’s like the tide. He will come on. He’ll settle her all right.” “She deserves what she’ll get anyway.” “If she do, she’s one in a thousand,” answered Knox, “for in my experience we always get more or less than we deserve, never a fair, honest deal. You can’t tell what she’s going to get, but you can bet your boots it won’t be what she deserves. Be it as it will, you’re in the position of Providence to both of them; because whatever she may think about it, we know what he does. He’s in your hand—to make, or mar, so far as Medora’s concerned. I tell you for friendship, and to a man like myself, who loves a joke, these things are funny in a manner of speaking.” “The question is if they’re true.” “They’re true as sure as Kellock is true. Make no mistake about that.” “Well, I’m not the sort to stab in the dark, though that’s how they served me. But I don’t feel no particular call to put myself out of the way for either of ’em. You can’t get this job through for nothing, and I’ve got no spare cash for the minute.” “They chose their own time to run; they must await yours for the rest,” admitted Mr. Knox. CHAPTER XIX EMOTIONS OF MEDORA