These thoughts did not always trouble her. The current of idle activity on which they were both gliding was her native element as well as his; and never had its tide been as swift, its waves as buoyant. In his relation to her, too, he was full of tact and consideration. She saw that he still remembered their frightened exchange of glances after their first kiss; and the sense of this little hidden spring of imagination in him was sometimes enough for her thirst. She had always had a rather masculine punctuality in keeping her word, and after she had promised Strefford to take steps toward a divorce she had promptly set about doing it. A sudden reluctance prevented her asking the advice of friends like Ellie Vanderlyn, whom she knew to be in the thick of the same negotiations, and all she could think of was to consult a young American lawyer practicing in Paris, with whom she felt she could talk the more easily because he was not from New York, and probably unacquainted with her history. She was so ignorant of the procedure in such matters that she was surprised and relieved at his asking few personal questions; but it was a shock to learn that a divorce could not be obtained, either in New York or Paris, merely on the ground of desertion or incompatibility. “I thought nowadays... if people preferred to live apart... it could always be managed,” she stammered, wondering at her own ignorance, after the many conjugal ruptures she had assisted at. The young lawyer smiled, and coloured slightly. His lovely client evidently intimidated him by her grace, and still more by her inexperience. “It can be--generally,” he admitted; “and especially so if... as I gather is the case... your husband is equally anxious....” “Oh, quite!” she exclaimed, suddenly humiliated by having to admit it. “Well, then--may I suggest that, to bring matters to a point, the best way would be for you to write to him?” She recoiled slightly. It had never occurred to her that the lawyers would not “manage it” without her intervention. “Write to him... but what about?” “Well, expressing your wish... to recover your freedom.... The rest, I assume,” said the young lawyer, “may be left to Mr. Lansing.” She did not know exactly what he meant, and was too much perturbed by the idea of having to communicate with Nick to follow any other train of thought. How could she write such a letter? And yet how could she confess to the lawyer that she had not the courage to do so? He would, of course, tell her to go home and be reconciled. She hesitated perplexedly. “Wouldn’t it be better,” she suggested, “if the letter were to come from--from your office?” He considered this politely. “On the whole: no. If, as I take it, an amicable arrangement is necessary--to secure the requisite evidence then a line from you, suggesting an interview, seems to me more advisable.”