“My dear Gertrude, that is the very point I want to impress upon you. I am grimly determined that no one shall be made a fool of, least of all you. Treat this as absolutely between ourselves.” She wriggled and poked her chin at him. “Oh, you big, eccentric creature! Falling in love! Somehow, it is so quaint, that it doesn’t make me jealous. I suppose I have so many real and absorbing interests that I am rather above such things. But I do hope you won’t make yourself ridiculous.” “I can promise you that. We are to be good friends and fellow-workers. Only I wanted you to understand.” “Of course I understand. I’m such a busy woman, James, and my life is so full, that I really haven’t time to be sentimental. I have heard that most middle-aged men get fond of school-girls in a fatherly kind of way.” He crushed his serviette and threw it on the table. “In a way, you are one of the most sensible women, Gertrude, I have ever met.” “Am I?” “Only you don’t realise it. It’s more temperament than virtue.” “I’m a woman of the world, James. And there are so many important things to do that I haven’t time to worry myself about harmless little romances. I don’t think I mind in the least.” He pushed back his chair and rose. “I did not think you would. Only we are all egoists, more or less. One never quite knows how the ‘self’ in a person will jump.” He crossed the room and paused at the window, looking out. His thoughts were that this wife of his was a most amazing fool, without sufficient sexual sense to appreciate human nature. It was not serene wisdom that had made her take the matter so calmly, but sheer, egregious fatuity, the milk-and-water-mindedness that is incapable of great virtues or great sins. “Have you thought of Lynette?” “What has Lynette to do with it, James?” “Oh, nothing!” He gave her up. She was hopeless. And yet his contempt made him feel sorry. Her hand had gone out to her papers, and was stirring them to crepitations that seemed to express the restless satisfactions of her life. “Don’t you over-work yourself, Gertrude?” “I don’t think so. But sometimes I do feel——” “You ought to have a secretary, some capable young woman who could sit and write letters for eight hours a day. I can easily allow you another three hundred a year.” She flushed. He had touched the one vital part in her. “Oh, James, I could do so much more. And there is so much to be done. My postage alone is quite an item!” “Of course! Then it’s settled. I’m glad I thought of it.” “James, it’s most generous of you. I feel quite excited. There are all sorts of things I want to take up.” He went out into the garden, realising that he had made her perfectly happy. * * * * * CHAPTER XLVI LYNETTE APPROVES