“Oh, yes!” she said. “But quite apart from the fact that by this time she’s told half London, I meant you in any case to know.” Mayne looked at her. “Why?” he asked. “I leave that to your intelligence,” said Rose, meeting his eyes steadily. There was a long pause. “How well Cecily looks!” she remarked presently in an ordinary tone. “She’s wildly busy, but it seems to suit her.” “It suits most of us, I imagine,” returned Mayne, slowly. “Are you carrying out the doctrine?” “No.” “No? What are you doing, then?” “Idling.” “That’s unusual, isn’t it?” Mayne threw his cigarette end out of the window. “You think I ought to be moving on?” “Yes,” said Rose, abruptly, as though moved by a sudden determination. “Why don’t you?” He again met her eyes, this time doggedly. “Why should I?” Rose took her courage in both hands. There was something in the man’s face which showed her she had need of it. “Dick,” she said, quietly, “it hasn’t taken me long to discover that people are talking.” He smiled grimly. “But that is perennial.” “And,” continued Rose, undaunted, “her husband is jealous.” This time he laughed unpleasantly. “Of what? Her success?” “Partly. But not only that. Of her--of you.” It was out now, and she took breath a little uneasily. He rose, and stood leaning against the window-frame. “In the face of _that_?” he jerked his head in the direction of Robert’s study, and laughed again. There was something in his tone, a savage irony, mingled with a kind of appeal, that made it very difficult for Rose to keep her head. Yet she managed to answer coolly. “Oh, yes--quite. But, as I’ve often found, it takes one man to expect logic from another.” “There’s something more important than logic that the average man surely _may_ expect,” returned Mayne. He had thrown off all attempt at lightness of tone by now. “What’s that?” “Common decency.” They looked at one another. “My dear Dick,” said Rose, slowly, “when one comes down to the primitive emotions, one mustn’t expect even that. Put love, jealousy, or hatred in one scale--and civilization will be a feather in the other.” He continued to look down at her. When he spoke it was under his breath. “I agree. Hatred, you say? By God----” He checked himself, and turned abruptly towards the window. Rose watched him a moment. “Dick,” she said, “you have only one person to consider--Cecily.” He wheeled round. “And I _have_ considered her. Kingslake overreached himself there. He knew I cared for her. What he _didn’t_ know, was how much I cared.”