She shook her head. "Not quite that. Besides, there are many kinds of love." Again for a second she hesitated looking straight at him. "Shall I tell you something? I don't know whether I ought. It is almost like a breach of confidence--though it was never told to me." "What is it?" he said imperatively. She made a little gesture of yielding. "Yes, I will tell you. Mr. Fielding, you might make your wife love you--so dearly--if you cared to take the trouble." "What?" he said. Her eyes met his with a faint, faint smile. "Doesn't it seem absurd," she said, "that it should fall to me--a comparative stranger--to tell you this, when you have been together for so long? It is the truth. She is just as lonely and unhappy as you are. You could transform the whole world for her--if you only would." "What! Give her her own way in everything?" he said. "Is that what you're advising?" "No. I'm not advising anything. I am only just telling you the truth," said Juliet. "You could make her love you--if you tried." He stared at her for some seconds as if trying to read some riddle in her countenance. "You are a very remarkable young woman," he said at last. "I wouldn't part with you for a king's ransom. So you think I might turn that very unreasonable hatred of hers into love, do you?" "I am quite sure," said Juliet steadily. "I wonder if I should like it if I did!" said the squire. She laughed--a sudden, low laugh. "Yes. You would like it very much. It's the last and greatest obstacle between you and happiness. Once clear that, and--" "Did you say happiness?" he broke in cynically. "Yes, of course I did." Her look challenged him. "Once clear that and if you haven't got a straight run before you--" She paused, looking at him oddly, very intently, and finally stopped. "Well?" he said. "Continue!" She coloured vividly under his eyes. "I'm afraid I've lost my thread. It doesn't really matter. You know what I was going to say. The way to happiness does not lie in pleasing oneself. The self-seekers never get there." He made her a courteous bow. "Thank you, fairy god-mother! I believe you are right. That may be why happiness is so shy a bird. We spread the net too openly. Well," he heaved a sigh, "we live and learn." He turned to the table and took up his riding whip. "I suppose my wife will be in bed and sulk all day because I vetoed the Graydown Races." "Oh, was that the trouble?" said Juliet. He nodded gloomily. "I hate the set she consorts with at these shows. There are some of the Fairharbour set--impossible people! But they boast of being on nodding terms with that arch-bounder Lord Saltash, and so everything is forgiven them." Juliet suddenly stood up very straight. "I think I ought to tell you," she said, "that I know Lord Saltash. I have lived with the Farringmore family, as you know. He is a friend of Lord Wilchester's." The squire turned sharply. "I hope you're going to tell me also that you can't endure the man," he said.