“I’ll have to learn to call you that in case we ever have company,” returned Rodney. “See, here, Cis, I sort of dread to say what I’m going to say; please help me to it. I thought I’d tell you after we were married, but you’re so keen to have things clear between you and Mr. Lucas, you’re so straight, I thought--Cis, if you were anyone else, anything else but what you are, I’d follow my own judgment, but you’re so crystal-clear--Cis, try to understand, and for pity’s sake don’t be prejudiced--There’s no sense in building up false theories of life--” Cicely was sitting erect and still, her lips parted, her very muscles eloquent of tensity of mind. “What are you stumbling over, Rod? What are you going to tell me?” she demanded. “When I talked to you about my life, told you about it, you did not notice that I said nothing about three years of it, when I was in Chicago,” said Rodney. Cis shook her head, groping backward in her memory to recall what he had said. “Only that you were there for three years; that’s all I remember,” she said. “How do you feel about second marriages, Cis?” asked Rodney. “Would you hate to be a second wife?” “Oh!” Cis gasped, and sank back in her chair. “It’s not--not so nice,” she said hesitatingly. “To think you were married, actually married, fixed up a home before this one, brought a girl into it, loved her--Oh, Rod, were you? Were you--married--before?” Rodney nodded. “Yes, Cis, I was. I had to tell you; please, please, don’t mind, Cis!” For a few minutes Cicely was silent, shading her face with her hand; Rodney waited breathlessly for her to speak. At last she pushed back her hair with the hand that had rested against her forehead, smiled bravely, with a visible effort, and put out that hand to Rodney. “Poor dear!” she said softly. “I’m sorry! It rather knocked me up at first, but I won’t let it bother me long. All girls like to be the first, you know, but it’s really all right, as long as you love me dearly now. You told me that you’d fancied others before me, so I did half-way know, but marriage is different. I didn’t know you’d loved one well enough for that. I wish you’d told me sooner--But it was awfully hard to tell me at all, I see that, so I’m grateful to you for making yourself speak of it now. It is right to have told me before we were married; I don’t know just how I should have felt if I’d found it out later; I’m so keen on honesty.” Rodney winced. “I know, Cis; that’s why I had to tell you. But that time was nothing like this; don’t you imagine I ever felt for any other girl what I feel for you!”