He could not know that in one swift backward leap her mind had cleared the intervening years, and that in vivid clarity there stood before her a girl of fifteen, in pigtail and short dresses, wild, impulsive and mad with a child’s passion for a youth, a young subaltern of the Guards, glorious in his first uniform, who bullied her, teased her, kissed her and went away, leaving in her soul a vision of entrancing splendour. Returning two years later, a handsome, dashing wastrel, already deep in the harvesting of his wild oats, he found it wise to accept a hint from headquarters and resign his commission. But even so she was wild to go with him to the world’s end. Instead, her mother, ignoring passionate and tearful protestations, carried her off on the Grand Tour till the youth had disappeared from his kind, and her world knew him no more. The wound had healed, but the scar remained and in odd moments and in certain weathers still ached. Yes, she knew. And her knowledge steeled her resolve that her child should be spared a like experience, at what cost so ever. With face pale and set she rode, without further word, straight to her door. As her husband assisted her to alight, she said quietly, “We shall say nothing to Paul tonight.” One glance at her face was enough for him. “No, no, my love. It shall be as you say,” was his reply. “And tomorrow you shall arrange matters with Mr. Gaspard.” The little Colonel looked at her in piteous dismay, but his mind was not working with sufficient celerity to furnish words for an answer. No peaceful slumber visited the Colonel that night. The prospect of the task laid upon him by his wife, of “arranging” matters with Gaspard, did not invite reposeful emotions. He had sought more exact instructions from his wife as to what proposals should be made to their neighbour and in what terms. He received little aid and less sympathy. It was surely a simple matter, after all. Gaspard had created a social situation for himself which would outrage the whole community. They were still a primitive country in many ways, but they had some regard for the foundations of the social order. The old days when men’s passions and desires determined their conduct, with utter disregard of the opinion of decent society, had gone. None knew this better than Gaspard. And all that would be necessary would be to suggest that he must accept the social consequences. “You won’t need to rub it in.” “Oh, not in the least. He will probably kick me out of the house,” observed the Colonel cheerfully. “And I shall deserve it,” he added. “Oh, nonsense!” replied his wife scornfully. “He is no fool. Of course, I don’t mean you men can’t meet, and all that. You will do that sort of thing anyway. And you can lay the blame, as you will, doubtless, upon the inexplicable eccentricities of the women. It will only be another burden laid upon our shoulders.” “I wish you would undertake the job,” her husband pleaded, “since it seems so simple to you.”