‘Life, my dear,’ said Minne-Adélaïde sententiously, ‘is a garden of roses growing in manure. You cannot play about in that garden without getting dirty. And men like the gardening work, and they don’t trouble to put on gloves for it either. Life is a dirty affair, _ma petite_.’ Minne-Adélaïde honestly thought so, though her own life had been plain and clean in the most uninteresting degree, so far as its facts went. Gundred looked at her with chilly distaste. She misunderstood Mrs. Mimburn, thought her attitude genuine, instead of mere pose, and disliked her accordingly. ‘We shall never agree,’ she answered. ‘We see things very differently, Aunt Minna. We have always known different sorts of people.’ Mrs. Mimburn bit her enamelled lip. ‘Well,’ she answered, ‘I am sure I hope you will make a success of your life, dear Gundred. I do think the experiment is a little risky, though. Isabel is really a little dangerous, you know.’ ‘Are you talking about my cousin?’ asked Gundred loftily. ‘Oh, please don’t trouble. I think we understand each other.’ ‘No woman understands any other woman when there is a man in the case,’ replied Minne-Adélaïde. ‘Only misunderstandings happen _then_. We are all cats together. One always has to be careful of other women.’ ‘How kind of you--yes?’ said Gundred; ‘but there is really nothing to warn us against.’ ‘Oh, _ma chère_, of course not. Dear Kingston is the best husband in the world. It is a pity, perhaps, he was not--well, a little more _noceur_ before he married. That would make one feel so much more secure of him as a husband. One has to remember, you see, that marriage is not only a matter of--obvious things. It’s not a case of having a man, but of holding him. A woman should always have reserves and spices in her nature to keep her husband on the alert--ordinary women, I mean. But you are so brave. You are trying to run a _ménage à trois_ on quite original lines----’ ‘My dear Aunt Minna, there isn’t any need to give me so much good advice. I have no wish to interfere with my husband’s amusements.’ ‘Not even to have any share in them? Now, that is so courageous. Of course you don’t seem able to amuse Kingston as much as Isabel can. I suppose you see that. He makes it plainer and plainer every day. Or perhaps you simply don’t care for the trouble, and so you give him a lively pretty creature to fill up the time with? So sweet of you. I only trust he won’t fill up the time so well that he won’t have any left for you. Men are so uncertain.’ This time Mrs. Mimburn had pierced Gundred’s armour. Her colour deepened. ‘I should think it a silly insult to have any doubts of my husband,’ she answered. ‘And--and--well, it’s not as if Isabel were very extraordinarily beautiful.’ She regretted the lapse as soon as she had committed it. But Minne-Adélaïde pounced mercilessly.