Hermione took it wonderfully. She did not lower her raised chin, or change the benevolent light of her clear grey eyes. She merely looked from one man to the other. John’s eyes were fixed anxiously upon her face, but Mr. Brett regarded without concern, but without appreciation, the points of his patent leather slippers. He did not consider that English servants understood patent leather. “For the rest of our lives?” repeated Hermione. Her voice did not break, but it literally wrung John’s heart. “You quite understand,” he urged, “that I have made no such promise; it has only been put to me as a condition of your father’s going with you to Paris, and what is more, I will not make it without your agreement.” Hermione rose to her feet, she gave an exquisite gesture of mingled surrender and protection in the direction of her father’s unresponsive figure. “Thank you, John,” she said with heroic fortitude, “for having consulted me. I don’t think we need go into the painfulness of the question—you will know, without my speaking of it, what it means to me. I must only urge that as far as possible Elise is spared; to put such a decision into her hands would torture her. “As far as I am concerned the decision is already made. Since Papa makes it the express condition of our being together, I—consent.” She turned and without faltering walked towards the door. John sprang to open it for her, and as she passed out of it, he took one of her hands in his and kissed it. It seemed to him that he had been present at the sacrifice of Iphigenia. He was so moved that he could hardly force himself to return to Mr. Brett. When he spoke to his father-in-law all the friendliness and gratitude had gone out of his voice. “I should like to know, Sir,” he asked coldly, “how I am to explain this extraordinary arrangement to my wife?” Mr. Brett raised his eyes and looked at John. “Well,” he said slowly, “my way would be _not_ to explain it. Half the trouble in life comes from explanations. When they’re honest they hurt, and when they’re dishonest, and most explanations are dishonest, they’re a waste of breath. “If the question has to come up you can tell Elise that the arrangement is mine, that you only agreed to it at Hermione’s wish, and that she only agreed to it in order to succour the declining years of her hard-hearted old parent. That lets you out, that lets Hermione out—I guess that’s all that’s necessary.” “The fact remains,” said John inexorably, “that by your action you deprive Hermione of her sister’s companionship.” “Sure, Hermione can’t have us both,” said Mr. Brett with a sudden chuckle. “And Elise can’t have you both either,” said John, ignoring his father-in-law’s untimely mirth.