There were bright tears in her eyes as she spoke. She went on: "But of course you're thinking of Geoffrey. Well, you needn't worry--_he'll_ never need to know anything about it. He's so sure of his own powers of fascination that he'd want a lot of convincing that I could possibly be interested in anybody else." I nodded. That was shrewd and very probably true. "Well, anyhow," I said, after a pause, "what are you going to do about it?" "_Do_ about it?" she repeated. "_Do_ about it? Why, there's nothing to do, except to go on being in love for the first time in my life." "The _first_? You mean that----" Yes, she meant it. She had begun by being frank with me, she said, and she might as well continue. No doubt I would be surprised to hear that her marriage hadn't been an affair of love--not on her side, at any rate.... She had been a _midinette_ in the Rue de la Paix, and Severn a chance customer. He had taken her about as he would have taken about any girl if he had fancied her sufficiently. "He dazzled me--he was so very charming and delightful, and I liked him because he wasn't a snob...." After the marriage there had been trouble with the Severn family, and--"He was splendid then. I liked him most of all when he hadn't more than five pounds in the world and he _would_ insist on taking me to Claridge's. He was always like that--he never feared to do what he wanted. And, of course, you know how marvellously--how _terribly_ successful he's been." She smiled and continued: "The quaint part of it is that most people must think me the luckiest person in the world. Geoffrey's so generous--I've nothing very much to complain of. It's just that as soon as I met Terry I knew--" She shrugged her shoulders and added: "Well, you know what I knew, don't you?" She took a chocolate éclair and delicately pierced it with her fork. "You aren't saying very much," she went on, "but I hope you're understanding.... Try to understand how terrible it is to be married to a man who always gets what he wants. Everything that he said last night was perfectly true--he doesn't believe there's anything very much worth while in the world, except to do what you like and have a good time.... And then, on the other hand, there's Terry...." "Yes?" She went on, after a pause: "What seems to me so strange and fine is his way of doing his work very quietly because he thinks it's worth doing, and not because of money or fame or anything like that at all. Just think of it--Geoffrey's made out of this Roebourne case in three weeks as much as Terry may earn in ten years.... It's a shame." It was, I admitted, but I pointed out that Terry himself would probably disagree. He didn't want a lot of money, and consequently he wasn't disappointed about not getting it. He had often said that three hundred a year would completely satisfy him. To which she replied: "Yes, I told that to Geoffrey not long ago, and he said he'd settle three hundred a year on him if he'd accept it."