"If he _wanted_ to go," began Joan haughtily, then subsided into tears and helplessness. "Pixie! Pixie! It's so difficult! What can I do?" "D'you need _me_ to tell you? Isn't it the _easiest_ thing in the world to make love to your own husband, in your own house? Talk of propinquity! Always ready, always handy, if you can't manage _that_! My dear girl, the game's in your own hands." "Can a leopard change its spots?" "We're not talking of leopards; we're talking of women--and they _can_ bridle their tongues!" Again Joan was silent. _Could she_? A great martyrdom, or heroic effort, these she would have faced gladly, counting them a small price to pay for her husband's love; but then how to subdue hasty impulses, to keep a watch over her tongue--this seemed beyond her strength. And yet the treasure which was threatened was of such inestimable value. It was impossible to contemplate life without it. Human life is uncertain, and though she would not allow herself to dwell upon such a possibility, Joan had realised in her heart that a day might dawn when she would have to part from husband or son. Death might come, she might have to say farewell to the dear human presence, but never, never had she imagined for a moment that she might be compelled to live on, having bidden farewell to _love_! Geoffrey her lover, Geoffrey her husband, Geoffrey the father of her boys, was it a fact or a dreadful nightmare that he had sat, untouched by her appeal, and confessed that ... that... Joan winced, unable to bear the repetition, and locked her hands more closely on her knee. Pixie glanced furtively through the window. Stanor had turned back to the tennis-ground and the three-handed game had been resumed. She stifled a pang of disappointment and sat quietly waiting for further confidences, but presently Joan said quietly-- "Thank you, Pixie. Now--will you go? I want to think. You've been very sweet." "More bracing than sweet, my dear; but it was what you needed!" Pixie rose with an alacrity which the other was, fortunately, too preoccupied to notice, dropped a kiss on the lovely bent neck, and walked quickly from the room. Joan had had the relief which her nature demanded of giving expression to her feelings; now it was best that she should be alone. Pixie had done her best to help, and now sunshine and Stanor were waiting! In another five minutes she was playing tennis as whole-heartedly as though it were her only business in life.