She answered him with absolute steadiness. “You needn’t say any more. Let us go back!” He made a gesture with one hand that was almost violent. “It isn’t always possible—to go back,” he said. “It is quite possible in this case,” she said quietly. “Perhaps it will make matters easier if I tell you that I found out by accident some time ago that Maggie and Oliver were contemplating this step, and my sympathies have been entirely with them all through.” He gave a sharp start. “Maggie! Oliver! But why tell me this?” “Doesn’t it make it easier for you?” she said. “Why should it?” he demanded. And then abruptly, realizing the loophole she had made for him, “Oh, damn it, Frances! Are you trying to throw dust in my eyes—at this stage?” “Not in the least,” she returned, and now her pride came back to her and she lifted it grandly like a banner. “I am telling you the truth. My sympathies are, and always have been, entirely with Maggie and Oliver. I may be very presumptuous, but I can’t stand by and see a great wrong done without making a very great effort to avert it. I have made my effort, and whether successful or not I have at least managed to prevent your acting in this matter without consideration. That is all I have to say.” She was holding her banner bravely now, masking her own humiliation and his anguish of spirit also. For herein, it seemed to her, lay salvation for them both. If she could check the flood-tide of passion which she sensed in his restraint, if she could hold back the wild words that were fighting for utterance, she would be doing him service. And in serving him, she served herself. For thus has Love the Omnipotent ordained, that in the service of another we should find our own deliverance. Again the silence fell between them. They were walking more slowly now in the gloom of the nut-trees. She realized that the tension was partially relaxed, but she did not dare to lower her flag. He spoke at last, his voice very quiet and sombre, with something of the old iron ring. “What do you want me to do?” They reached the end of the nut-walk and she turned. Her agitation was wholly past, but her heart felt deadly cold within her. “I want you,” she said, “to try to understand that Maggie and Oliver have done no wrong, and to treat them with kindness.” “Is that all?” he said. She did not understand his tone. “Is it too much to ask?” she said. “No, it is very little—less than nothing. Do you think I care a damn what happens to either of them now?” His voice shook a little.