There was difficulty in keeping the secret from Vincy, who was actually staying in the house, and whose wonderful nerves and whimsical mind were so sensitive to every variation of his surroundings. He had the gift of reading people's minds. But it never annoyed anyone; one felt he had no illusions; that he sympathised with one's weaknesses and follies and, in a sense, enjoyed them, from a literary point of view. Probably his friends forgave his clear vision for the sake of his interest. Most people would far rather be seen through than not be seen at all. One day Vincy, alone on the beach with Edith, remarked that he wondered what had happened to Mavis. Edith told him that she had run away with a married man. 'Never, Edith!' he exclaimed. 'Who would have thought it! It seems almost too good to be true!' 'Don't say that, Vincy.' 'But how did you hear it? You know everything.' 'I heard it on good authority. I _know_ it's true.' 'And to think I was passing the remark only the other day that I thought I ought to look her up, in a manner of speaking, or write, _or something_,' continued Vincy; 'and who _is_ the poor dear man? Do you know?' He looked at her with a sudden vague suspicion of he knew not what. 'Bruce was always inclined to be romantic, you know,' she said steadily. 'Oh, give over!' 'Yes, that's it; I didn't want anyone to know about it. I'm so afraid of making Mrs Ottley unhappy.' 'But you're not serious, Edith?' 'I suppose I'd better show you his letter. He tells me to ask your advice.' She gave it to him. 'There is only one word for what I feel about it,' Vincy said, as he gave it back. 'I'm gormed! Simply gormed! Gormed, Edith dear, is really the only word.' 'I'm not jealous,' said Edith. 'My last trouble with Bruce seems to have cured me of any feeling of the kind. But I have a sort of pity and affection for him still in a way--almost like a mother! I'm really afraid he will be miserable with her, and then he'll feel tied to her and be wretched all his life. So I'm giving him a chance.' He looked at her with admiring sympathy. 'But what about other friends?' 'Well--oh, you know--' 'Edith, I'm awfully sorry; I wish I'd married her now, then she wouldn't have bothered about Bruce.' 'But you can't stand her, Vincy.' 'I know, Edith dear; but I'd marry any number of people to prevent anything tiresome for you. And Aylmer, of course--Edith, really, I think Aylmer ought to go away; I'm sure he ought. It is a mistake to let him stay here under these circumstances.' 'Why?' said Edith. 'I don't see that; if I were going to take Bruce at his word, then it would be different, of course.' 'It does seem a pity not to, in some ways; everything would be all nicely settled up, just like the fourth act of a play. And then I should be glad I hadn't married Mavis... Oh, do let it be like the fourth act, Edith.' 'How can life be like a play? It's hopeless to attempt it,' she said rather sadly.