“I don’t know if you young things realise that it’s growing late. If you want us to dine at the Chien Noir, you must leave us now, so that we can make ourselves tidy.” “Very well,” said Arthur, getting up. “I’ll go back to my hotel and have a wash. We’ll meet at half-past seven.” When Margaret had closed the door on him, she turned to her friend. “Well, what do you think?” she asked, smiling. “You can’t expect me to form a definite opinion of a man whom I’ve seen for so short a time.” “Nonsense!” said Margaret. Susie hesitated for a moment. “I think he has an extraordinarily good face,” she said at last gravely. “I’ve never seen a man whose honesty of purpose was so transparent.” Susie Boyd was so lazy that she could never be induced to occupy herself with household matters and, while Margaret put the tea things away, she began to draw the caricature which every new face suggested to her. She made a little sketch of Arthur, abnormally lanky, with a colossal nose, with the wings and the bow and arrow of the God of Love, but it was not half done before she thought it silly. She tore it up with impatience. When Margaret came back, she turned round and looked at her steadily. “Well?” said the girl, smiling under the scrutiny. She stood in the middle of the lofty studio. Half-finished canvases leaned with their faces against the wall; pieces of stuff were hung here and there, and photographs of well-known pictures. She had fallen unconsciously into a wonderful pose, and her beauty gave her, notwithstanding her youth, a rare dignity. Susie smiled mockingly. “You look like a Greek goddess in a Paris frock,” she said. “What have you to say to me?” asked Margaret, divining from the searching look that something was in her friend’s mind. Susie stood up and went to her. “You know, before I’d seen him I hoped with all my heart that he’d make you happy. Notwithstanding all you’d told me of him, I was afraid. I knew he was much older than you. He was the first man you’d ever known. I could scarcely bear to entrust you to him in case you were miserable.” “I don’t think you need have any fear.” “But now I hope with all my heart that you’ll make him happy. It’s not you I’m frightened for now, but him.” Margaret did not answer; she could not understand what Susie meant. “I’ve never seen anyone with such a capacity for wretchedness as that man has. I don’t think you can conceive how desperately he might suffer. Be very careful, Margaret, and be very good to him, for you have the power to make him more unhappy than any human being should be.” “Oh, but I want him to be happy,” cried Margaret vehemently. “You know that I owe everything to him. I’d do all I could to make him happy, even if I had to sacrifice myself. But I can’t sacrifice myself, because I love him so much that all I do is pure delight.” Her eyes filled with tears and her voice broke. Susie, with a little laugh that was half hysterical, kissed her.