"Nonsense," he said, "it wasn't I who went through a modified hell. He's got a lot of backbone, Ledwith.... And so we came up last night.... And--now here's the interesting part, Strelsa! We strolled over to call on Mrs. Ledwith----" "What!" "Certainly. I myself didn't see her but--" he laughed--"she seemed to be at home to her ex-husband." "Rix!" "It's a fact. He went back there for breakfast this morning after he'd changed his clothes." "After--_what_?" "Yes. It seems that they started out in a canoe about midnight and he didn't turn up at Witch-Hollow until just before breakfast--and then he only stayed long enough to change to boating flannels.... You should see him; he's twenty years younger.... I fancy they'll get along together in future." "Oh, Rix!" she said, "that was darling of you! You _are_ wonderful even if you don't seem to know it!... And to think--to _think_ that Mary Ledwith is going to be happy again!... Oh, you don't know how it has been with her--the silly, unhappy little thing! "Why, after Mrs. Sprowl left, the girl went all to pieces. Molly and I did what we could--but Molly isn't strong and Mrs. Ledwith was at my house almost all the time--Oh, it was quite dreadful, and I'm sure she was really losing her senses--because--I think I'll tell you--I tell you everything--" She hesitated, and then, lowering her voice: "She had come to see me, and she was lying on the lounge in my dressing-room, crying; and I was doing my hair. And first I knew she sobbed out that she had killed her husband and wanted to die, and she caught up that pistol that Sir Charles gave me at the Bazaar last winter--it looked like a real one--and the next thing I knew she had fired a charge of Japanese perfume at her temple, and it was all over her face and hair!... Don't laugh, Rix; she thought she had killed herself, and I had a horrid, messy time of it reviving her." "You poor child," he exclaimed trying not to laugh--"she had no brains to blow out anyway.... That's a low thing to say. Ledwith likes her.... I really believe she's been scared into life-long good behaviour." "She wasn't--really--horrid," said Strelsa in a low voice. "She told me so." "I don't doubt it," he said. "But one way or the other you might as well reproach a humming-bird for its morals. There are such people." After a short silence she said: "Tell me about people in town." "There are few there. Besides," he added smilingly, "I don't see much of your sort of people." "_My_ sort?" she repeated, lifting her gray eyes. "Am I not your sort, Rix?" "Are you? You should see me in my overalls and shirt-sleeves, stained with solvents and varnish, sticky with glue and reeking turpentine, ironing out a canvas with a warm flat-iron!... Am I your kind, Strelsa?" "Yes.... Am I _your_ kind?" "You always were. You know that." "Yes, I do know it, now." She sat very still, hands folded, considering him with gray and speculative eyes.