"Well, it's not much. But a week or two ago Greg was talking to me about your being eager to get the boys into the country early this year. He looked awfully tired that afternoon, and he said that he thought he would close this house, and live at the club this summer, and he said 'That means you have a dinner date every night, Magsie!' And suddenly, Rachael--I don't know what came over me, but I burst out crying"--Magsie's eyes filled now as she thought of it--"and I said, 'Oh, Greg, we need each other! Why can't we belong to each other! You love me and I love you; why can't we give up our work and the city and everything else, and just be happy!'" "And what did--Warren say?" Rachael asked in a whisper. "Oh, Rachael! That's what I've been remembering ever since!" Magsie said. "That's what made me want to come to you; I KNEW you would understand! You're so good; you want people to be happy," said Magsie, fighting tears again and trying to smile. "You have everything: your sons, your position, your beauty--everything! I'm--I'm different from some women, Rachael. I can't just run away with him. There is an honorable and a right way to do it, and I want to ask you if you'll let us take that way!" "An honorable way?" Rachael echoed in an unnatural voice. "Well--" Magsie widened innocent eyes. "Nobody has ever blamed YOU for taking it, Rachael!" she said simply. "And nobody ever blamed Clarence, with Paula!" Rachael, looking fixedly at her, sat as if turned to stone. "You are brave, Magsie, to come and tell me this," she said at last quietly. "You are kind to listen to me," Magsie answered with disarming sincerity. "I know it is a strange thing to do." She laughed nervously. "Of course, I know THAT!" she added. "But it came to me that I would the other day. Greg and I were talking about dreams, you know--things we wanted to do. And we talked about going away to some beach, and swimming, and moonlight, and just rest--and quiet--" "I see," Rachael said. "Greg said, 'This is only a dream, Magsie, and we mustn't let ourselves dream!'" Magsie went on. "But--but sometimes dreams come true, don't they?" She stopped. There was an unearthly silence in the room. "I've tried to fight it, and I cannot," Magsie presently said in a small, tired voice; "it comes between me and everything I do. I'm not a great actress--I know that. I don't even want to be any more. I want to go away where no one will ever see me or hear of me again. I've heard of this--feeling"--she sent Rachael a brave if rather uncertain smile--"but I never believed in it before! I never believed that when--when you care"--Rachael was grateful to be spared the great word--"you can't live or breathe or think anything"--again there was an evasion--"but the one thing!" And with a long, tired sigh, again she relapsed into silence. Rachael could find nothing to say.