"I wish you’d tell her what you’ve told me, Harry." "It’s too late. She wouldn’t care, now." "Are you very sure?" "Do you think a man can use a woman the way I have used her, and make her care a straw about what I say to her now?" Cleland said in a low voice: "I can’t answer you. I don’t understand women; I write about them.... I have troubles of my own, too. So I can’t advise you, Harry.... Are you still in love with her?" He said in a dead voice: "I’ve always been. It’s done things to me. I’ll die of it, one day. But that’s no argument." "I don’t know. Tell her." "It’s no argument," repeated Belter. "It’s purely selfish. That’s what I am—purely selfish. I’m thinking of myself. I’m in love with her.... And she’s better off without me." "All the same, I think I’d take a chance. I think I’d tell her. After all, you owe her that much—whatever she may choose to do about it." "She doesn’t care, now." "Still, you owe it to her. You’re not a welcher, you know." They had reached the foot of the stairs. Helen, coming out of the enclosed court, met them face to face; and they exchanged amiabilities there outside her studio door. "Come in and have some tea," she said. "Harry, you look ill. Are you? Anyway, a cup of tea won’t slay you in your tracks——" fitting her key to the door all the while she was talking—"so come in like two polite young men——" The door swung open; they entered. "Oho!" exclaimed Helen; "Steve must be here because the kettle-lamp is lighted. We’ll have something to nibble presently, I expect. Find a chair, Harry, and watch that kettle. Jim, show him the cigarettes. I’m going to take off this blouse and I’ll be back with Steve in a moment——" She stopped short: Stephanie and Marie Cliff, coming from the kitchenette, appeared at the further end of the studio, the former bearing a big bowl of strawberries, the latter a tray of little cakes. Stephanie greeted the newcomers with an airy wave of her hand; Marie Cliff promptly lost her colour; but there was nothing to do except to advance, which she continued doing, moving very close to Stephanie’s elbow. The situation was going to be as awkward as the people involved made it: Cleland, secretly aghast, came forward to relieve Stephanie and Marie of their burdens: "If there isn’t enough food for a party, I’ll take Harry and go," he said gaily. "It isn’t done—this grasshopper-like invasion of your natural resources." "Piffle," said Helen, "there’s plenty." Harry Belter, who had been standing in the middle of the floor as though petrified, wrenched himself out of his trance and put his legs in motion. His face was very red: he greeted Stephanie elaborately but mutely; he bowed mutely to his wife.