Although Arthur had gotten the better of his blush, he felt that Pritchard was eying him rather narrowly. "They," said Arthur, "were a Mr. and Mrs. Waring." "I hope," said Pritchard, "that _he_ wasn't a friend of yours." "He was not," said Arthur, "but she was. I was very fond of her." "Nobody," said Pritchard, "could help being fond of her. But Waring was an old brute. One hated him. He wouldn't let her call her soul her own. He was always snubbing her. We used to call her the 'girl with the dry eyes.'" "Why?" asked Arthur. "It's a Chinese idea," said Pritchard. "Every woman is supposed to have just so many tears to shed. When these are all gone, why, then, no matter what sorrows come to her, she has no way of relieving them." Arthur could not conceal his agitation. And Pritchard looked away. He wished to escape. He thought that he could be happier with Gay than with her brother. But Arthur, agitation or no agitation, was determined to find out all that the young Englishman could tell him about the Warings. He began to ask innumerable questions: "What sort of a house did they live in?" "How do Christians amuse themselves in the Chinese capital?" "Did Mrs. Waring ride?" "What were some of her friends like?" etc., etc. There was no escaping him. He fastened himself to Pritchard as a drowning man to a straw. And his appetite for Peking news became insatiable. Pritchard surrendered gracefully. He went with Arthur on canoe trips and mountain climbs; at night he smoked with him in the open camp. And, in the end, Arthur gave him his whole confidence; so that, much as Pritchard wished to climb mountains and go on canoe trips with Gay, he was touched, interested, and gratified, and then all at once he found himself liking Arthur as much as any man he had ever known. "There is something wonderfully fine about your brother," he said to Gay. "At first I thought he was a queer stick, with his pets and his secret haunts in the woods, and his unutterable contempt for anything mean or worldly. We ought to dress him up in proof armor and send him forth upon the quest of some grail or other." "Grails," said Gay, "and auks are extinct." "Grails extinct!" exclaimed Pritchard. He was horrified. "Why, my dear Miss Gay, if ever the world offered opportunities to belted knights without fear and without reproach, it's now." "I suppose," said she, "that Arthur has told you all about his--his mix-up." Pritchard nodded gravely. "Is that the quest he ought to ride on?" "No--it won't do for Arthur. He might be accused of self-interest. That should be a matter to be redressed by a brother knight." "Or a divorce court." "Miss Gay!" "I don't think it's nice for one's brother to be in love with a married woman." "It isn't," said Pritchard gravely, "for him. It's hell." "_We_," said Gay, "never knew her."