"I understand," he said, and added quietly: "I am glad you place me in that category." "You head the list," she answered with a faint smile. "I'm not quite sure your name doesn't stand alone." While she was speaking the belief was suddenly confirmed in her that this man was entirely sincere in his protestations of friendship, that even if he heard the shameful story of her life with Arnott, he would not withdraw his friendship. She felt that she could rely on him, trust him implicitly. She also knew that if she needed help at any time he was the one person in the world she would ask for it. He was so sympathetic that she believed he would understand, as no one else without a similar experience could understand, her position. He, at least, would recognise that she had not acted solely from base motives. "I shouldn't like to believe that," he said gently; "but I am proud to top the list. I have a feeling to-night," he added slowly, unconsciously watching Arnott as the latter leaned forward in excited argument with Mrs Carruthers, "that we shall yet prove our belief in one another's sincerity. Don't think I am suggesting all manner of unnameable tragedies in your life,--the proof of loyal friendship is to be helpful also in little things. It's rather a rotten idea--isn't it?--that a man can't be pals with a married woman." "I think so," Pamela answered. "Besides, you've disproved that in your friendship with Connie." Dare was silent for a moment. There was, he knew, a very substantial difference in the quality of his friendship with Mrs Carruthers and his friendship with Pamela; sentiment was entirely absent in his feeling for the one; in the latter case the whole fabric of his regard was built upon it. He had a fairly strong conviction that he would throw, over Connie, throw over the whole world if need be, for this other woman. But he also realised with an equal certainty that the one thing he would not do was to allow her fair name to be sullied through his indiscretion. If it were necessary to the maintenance of a platonic friendship to remain at a distance, he would avoid any future possibility of their paths crossing. That much he could do for her. It was the strongest proof of his regard. "Men and women disprove that theory continually," he returned. "But we only hear of the failures, and that brings discredit on the idea. One might as reasonably argue that the divorce court brings discredit on the married state. The whole thing is absurd." "I wonder why you never married," Pamela said suddenly. "Somehow, I can't think of you as a married man; and yet you must surely have contemplated marriage. Most men do at some time or another." "I suppose," he said, "that you, like Connie, regard me as an old fogey and past such things?" "No," she answered simply. "My husband was older than you when I-- when--"