“Good heavens, Geoffrey! You’re a man--and you ask me that! There are heaps of men who ask women to marry them on the strength of a temporary infatuation, and then regret it ever after. Luckily for Blaise, Nesta saved him the ‘ever after’ part. But”--eyeing him significantly--“Blaise’s feeling for Jean isn’t of the ‘temporary’ type. Of that I’m sure.” “All the same, I don’t believe he means to ask her to marry him.” “No. I don’t think he does--_mean_ to. He’s probably got some high-minded scruples about not asking a second woman to make a mess of her life as a result of the Tormarin temper. It would be just like Blaise to adopt that attitude. But he _will_ ask her, all the same. The thing’ll get too strong for him. And when he asks her, Jean will say yes.” “You may be right. I’ve always said you were no fool, Judy. But if it’s as you think, then I must get in first, that’s all. First or last, though”--with a grim laugh--“I’ll back myself to beat Blaise Tormarin. _And you’ve got to help me._” Followed a silence while Judith threw away the stump of her cigarette and lit another. She did not hurry over the process, but went about it slowly and deliberately, holding the flame of the match to the tip of her cigarette for quite an unnecessarily long time. At last: “I don’t mind if I do,” she said slowly. “I don’t think I--envy--your wife much, Geoffrey. She won’t be a very happy woman, so I don’t mind assisting Glyn Peterson’s daughter to the position. It would make things so charming all round if he and I ever met again”--smiling ironically. Burke looked at her with a mixture of admiration and disgust. “What a thorough-going little beast you are, Judith,” he observed tranquilly. She shrugged her thin, supple shoulders with indifference. “I didn’t make myself. Glyn Peterson had a good share in kneading the dough; why shouldn’t his daughter eat the bread? And anyhow, old thing”--her whole face suddenly softening--“I should like you to have what you want--even if you wanted the moon! So you can count on me. But I don’t think you’ll find it all plain sailing.” “No”--sardonically. “She’ll likely be a little devil to break.... Well, start being a bit more friendly, will you? Ask her to lunch.” Accordingly, a day or two later, a charming little note found its way to Staple, inviting Jean to lunch with Mrs. Craig. “I shall be quite alone,” it ran, “as Geoffrey is going off for a day’s fishing, so I hope Lady Anne will spare you to come over and keep me company for an hour or two.”