‘God chooses His own instruments for His own purposes,’ answered Gundred earnestly. Then she rose, her demeanour filled with tranquil decision, with a stern majesty of protest that stirred again a twinge of remorse in her husband’s heart. Was it she that was foolish, or was it he that was selfish? After all, no sort of harm was planned against her, no disloyalty of any kind, no cooling of affection. If here and there a boy’s chance words contained the spirit of a long-dead woman, well, what was that to Gundred--especially as she could never know it? And his indulgence in the secret pleasure of those words could give no reasonable pain to her. And yet, so long as they did give her pain, did it very much matter whether the pain were reasonable or not, as far as the inflictor’s innocence or guilt was concerned? For what pain in the world is reasonable, if one looks far into the causes and the future of things? Kingston made haste to conclude that his actions could not possibly be expected to have reference to any silly feelings of Gundred’s that might engender pain in her, as the result of their own incalculable developments. Perhaps he made himself too many excuses, defended himself too vehemently, was in too great haste to declare himself convinced by his own arguments. He accepted Gundred’s last words without any symptom of yielding. And she who, up to the last moment, had never thought that her big guns could be fired without effect, was left helpless, defeated, plunged in the bathos of the situation. ‘Good-night,’ she said, quietly disguising the black bruise that her heart had sustained. Had Kingston suspected it, he might, perhaps, have softened. But Gundred by now was once more the cool, self-righteous little faultless person he had always known. Her serene rectitude of voice and manner annoyed him. ‘Good-night,’ he answered with equal coolness. Husband and wife went to their several rooms, after the first real quarrel of their married life. Innocently, ignorantly, Ivor Restormel had come between them--or, rather, the Thing that lived again in him had stirred again, as Gundred had divined, to intervene, as once before, between the two stranger-souls who, in the flesh, were contented husband and wife. CHAPTER XIX