"No, Barry, you're wrong." He spoke very gently. "I don't _hate_ Vivian. Why should I? She merely exercised her feminine prerogative and changed her mind. Besides, one only hates big things. Vivian isn't big. She's very small, or she'd not have done this thing. If she'd asked me to release her, I'd have done it, and never have uttered a reproach. It's the heartlessness, the unnecessary cruelty of this that hurts me so. I loved her, Barry, and she knew it. Loved her in the right way, in the way a man should love the woman he's going to marry; and my love meant so little to her that she chucked it away without even telling me she was tired of it." "But to marry, out of revenge, as it were, is small too." "Out of revenge? Come, Barry, what are you thinking of?" Owen rose and spoke with an eerie joviality. "There'll be no revenge about it! Mayn't I marry and settle down like another man? I'll guarantee that the first woman who wants me can have me; and if she plays the game she shan't regret it, for I'll play it too!" "But where will you look for her?" Barry could not understand this attitude of mind. "Look for her? Oh, I'll look for her all right--and she'll turn up, never fear!" He moved restlessly. "There's always some woman ready to enter a man's life when he throws the door ajar--and here I'm positively flinging it open, inviting the little dears to come in!" "But, I say, Owen"--Barry looked anxiously at his friend--"you ... you'll be careful, won't you? I mean, you won't let any twopenny-halfpenny little chorus-girl, or ... or girl out of a shop come in, will you? You see, if you let them all know...." "Chorus-girls are sometimes worth a good deal more than twopence-halfpenny," Owen reminded him quietly, "and I daresay a girl out of a shop would make a jolly decent wife. But I wasn't contemplating them when I spoke." "Of course not," assented Barry hastily. "I only meant----" "You only meant to give me good advice," said Owen, more kindly than he had yet spoken. "All right, old man, I understand. You must forgive me if I'm cross-grained to-night. You see I've had a shock----" He broke off abruptly. "There, I'm not going to whine about it. It's over, done with, and a new chapter's started." He yawned ostentatiously. "Barry, I shall call upon your good offices as best man yet--unless you hurry up and marry Miss Lynn first." "Oh, Olive and I are in no hurry!" He laughed a trifle awkwardly. "You see, she is so young--only just eighteen--and her people won't hear of it for a couple of years." "Well, that will soon pass." He turned towards the door. "I must be off now, Barry--it's late, and I'm pretty fagged. See you in the morning, I suppose?" "Of course. I say, Owen, sure you won't stay here to-night? I can give you a bed, you know." "Thanks awfully, old chap, but I'd rather get home. I've heaps of things to see to. Thanks all the same." Still talking, the friends crossed the hall, and Barry unlatched the door of the flat.