“I do not see. The whole matter is—is unfortunate, but to give up your work, so long as there is no absolute necessity, seems to me far-fetched and absurd. How many men are, there into whose lives there has not entered some such relation at one time or another? This idea would disqualify half the nation.” His eyes seemed in that crisis both to consult and to avoid his wife's, as though he were at once asking her endorsement of his point of view, and observing the proprieties. And for a moment in the midst of her anxiety, her sense of humour got the better of Lady Valleys. It was so funny that Geoff should have to give himself away; she could not for the life of her help fixing him with her eyes. “My dear,” she murmured, “you underestimate three-quarters, at the very least!” But Lord Valleys, confronted with danger, was growing steadier. “It passes my comprehension;” he said, “why you should want to mix up sex and politics at all.” Miltoun's answer came very slowly, as if the confession were hurting his lips: “There is—forgive me for using the word—such a thing as one's religion. I don't happen to regard life as divided into public and private departments. My vision is gone—broken—I can see no object before me now in public life—no goal—no certainty.” Lady Valleys caught his hand: “Oh! my dear,” she said, “that's too dreadfully puritanical!” But at Miltoun's queer smile, she added hastily: “Logical—I mean.” “Consult your common sense, Eustace, for goodness' sake,” broke in Lord Valleys. “Isn't it your simple duty to put your scruples in your pocket, and do the best you can for your country with the powers that have been given you?” “I have no common sense.” “In that case, of course, it may be just as well that you should leave public life.” Miltoun bowed. “Nonsense!” cried Lady Valleys. “You don't understand, Geoffrey. I ask you again, Eustace, what will you do afterwards?” “I don't know.” “You will eat your heart out.” “Quite possibly.” “If you can't come to a reasonable arrangement with your conscience,” again broke in Lord Valleys, “for Heaven's sake give her up, like a man, and cut all these knots.” “I beg your pardon, sir!” said Miltoun icily. Lady Valleys laid her hand on his arm. “You must allow us a little logic too, my dear. You don't seriously imagine that she would wish you to throw away your life for her? I'm not such a bad judge of character as that.” She stopped before the expression on Miltoun's face. “You go too fast,” he said; “I may become a free spirit yet.” To this saying, which seemed to her cryptic and sinister, Lady Valleys did not know what to answer.