Mitchy, without answering, smoothed his hat down; then he replied: “You say you’re not for long, but you won’t abandon her.” “Oh I mean I shan’t last for ever.” “Well, since you so expressed it yourself, that’s what I mean too. I assure you _I_ shan’t desert her. And if I can help you--!” “Help me?” Mr. Longdon interrupted, looking at him hard. It made him a little awkward. “Help you to help her, you know--!” “You’re very wonderful,” Mr. Longdon presently returned. “A year and a half ago you wanted to help me to help Mr. Vanderbank.” “Well,” said Mitchy, “you can’t quite say I haven’t.” “But your ideas of help are of a splendour--!” “Oh I’ve told you about my ideas.” Mitchy was almost apologetic. Mr. Longdon had a pause. “I suppose I’m not indiscreet then in recognising your marriage as one of them. And that, with a responsibility so great already assumed, you appear fairly eager for another--!” “Makes me out a kind of monster of benevolence?” Mitchy looked at it with a flushed face. “The two responsibilities are very much one and the same. My marriage has brought me, as it were, only nearer to Nanda. My wife and she, don’t you see? are particular friends.” Mr. Longdon, on his side, turned a trifle pale; he looked rather hard at the floor. “I see--I see.” Then he raised his eyes. “But--to an old fellow like me--it’s all so strange.” “It IS strange.” Mitchy spoke very kindly. “But it’s all right.” Mr. Longdon gave a headshake that was both sad and sharp. “It’s all wrong. But YOU’RE all right!” he added in a different tone as he walked hastily away. BOOK TENTH. NANDA I