"That was it, I suppose! He wanted to talk to you before you saw me. He is good. And you argued with him, you say? Disagreed, I suppose. Oh, well--men are always more tender-hearted than women." I felt annoyed, and munched in silence, staring fixedly at my plate. If this particular man was so much more understanding, why had she summoned me from town? After lurch Delphine ran upstairs to see her husband for a few minutes, and then returned to me in her little sitting-room. He was tired, she said, and hoped to sleep until tea. She had not told him of my visit; he was so listless and apathetic that it worried him to talk, or to have people talk to him. "I don't believe he will ever be the same again!" "People always say that in the middle of an illness, but they find their mistake later on. After a long rest the Vicar will be better than he has been for years, and it will be your business to see that he never works so hard again. You were always longing for a change, Delphine. Think how you will enjoy Switzerland, sitting out in the crisp clear air, looking at those glorious mountains, with no house or parish to worry over--nothing to do but wait on your dear man, and watch him growing stronger every day!" She looked at me dumbly, while the colour faded out of her cheeks, and the pretty curved lips twitched and trembled. I saw her clasp her hands, and brace herself against her chair, and knew that the moment for confession had come, and that it was difficult to find words. "No worry!" she repeated slowly. "No worry! But that's just what is killing me. I'm so worried, so worried that I feel sometimes, Evelyn, as if I were going out of my mind!" "You mean--about your husband?" I asked, but the question was really put as a lead; I knew she was not referring to illness. Delphine shook her head. "That is bad enough, but it is not the worst. The worst is that through me--through my wretched, selfish, vain, discontented folly, I--I have made it difficult for him even to get well. I--I have got into a horrible mess, Evelyn, and when he hears of it--when he has to hear, he will be so worried, so miserable, so disappointed, that it will bring on a relapse, and he will probably be worse than before. We can neither of us be happy again--never, never, any more!" "Sounds pretty bad!" I said, startled. "But there must be some way out, or you would not have sent for me to help you. You are going to tell me the whole truth, Delphine! Half confidences are no use. You will speak honestly, and--let me speak honestly to you?" "Oh, yes! You _will_ do, whether I allow you or not. I know you!" "Well, then"--I bent forward, staring full in her face--"let's get to the point. Is it another man?" Her face answered, without the need of words. Amazed resentment blazed out of her blue eyes.