“That it’s failure, and that all the other girls will say so--failure in the one great opportunity of her life, in the one great thing that’s expected of her; that it’s final; that she must live all her life a failure among those who looked to her for a great success. And the others will make successes! Would it be a small thing for a man? What is it to a girl?” “A failure, to marry me? You mean she feels that?” “Facts, please! Again facts! Not what you think you are, or are sure you are, or are convinced you could be; just what you are--Mr Kirby of the Colonial Office, lately promoted--it is promotion, isn’t it?--to be secretary to----” “Stop! I just want to run over all that,” he said. At, and from, this point I limit my liability. I had managed to point out--it really was not easy to set up to tell him things--where I thought he was wrong. Somehow, amid my trepidation, I was aware of a pleasure in talking to a splendidly open and candid mind. He was surprised that he had been wrong--that touch of a somewhat attractive arrogance there was about him--but the mere suspicion of being wrong made him attentive to the uttermost. Tell him he hadn’t observed his facts, and he wouldn’t, he couldn’t, rest till he had substantiated, or you had withdrawn, the imputation. But, as I say, to suggest the mistake was all I did. I had no precise remedy ready; I believe I had only a hazy idea of what might be done by a more sympathetic demeanour, a more ample acknowledgment of Miss Constantine’s sacrifice--a notion that she might do the big thing if he made her think it the enormous thing; aren’t even girls like that sometimes? The sower of the seed is entitled to some credit for the crop; after all, though, the ground does more. I take none too much credit for my hint, nor desire to take too much responsibility. He caught me by the arm and pulled me down on to a bench--a free seat just by the east end of the Serpentine. “Yes, I see,” he said. “I’ve been an ass. Just since you spoke, it’s all come before me--in a sort of way it grew up in my mind. I know how she feels now--both ways. I only knew how she felt about my end of the thing before. I was antagonistic to the other thing. I couldn’t see Val as a sort of Westminster Abbey for the living--that’s the truth. Never be antagonistic to facts--you’ve taught me that lesson once more, Wynne.” He broke into a sudden amused smile. “I say, if your meddling is generally as useful as it has been to me, I don’t see why you shouldn’t go on meddling, old chap.” I let that pass, though I should have preferred some such word as “interpose” or “intervene,” or “act as an intermediary.” I still consider that I had been in some sense invited--well, at any rate, tempted--to--well, as I have suggested, intervene. “What are you going to do?” I asked. “Settle it,” replied Mr Oliver Kirby, rising from the bench.