Crocker, pleased that David was in a mood so easy, nerved himself to a dangerous task. He had decided to do no less than try and light Bowden’s imagination. This on any subject had been a difficult feat; but since the man’s own wife was the matter, Bartley felt that he could hardly have attempted anything less likely to succeed or more likely to end in tribulation. Indeed, as soon as his mouth was open he regretted his unwisdom; but it was then too late to draw back and he proceeded. Chance inspired him to make an excellent case and speak with very genuine discretion; but David was a long time silent and the other feared that he had done more harm than good. "’Tis well we met," he began, "for I want to speak to you, David. And ’tis a kicklish subject at first glance; but not at second. I mean Margaret. You know very well I wanted to marry her once, and you know she loved you better far and you won her. But though she never would have taken me for a husband, yet I’ve been close as a brother to her all my life, and she’s fond of me too in her way." "I know it," said Bowden. "And why not? Fond she is, else she wouldn’t take so much trouble to try and get Rhoda to have you." "Exactly so. And now I’m coming to the tricky place in our talk. I met Margaret a bit agone--mind, I’m talking like her brother might--and she was crying. Just after leaving you it was, David. I asked her what was amiss, and she told me ’twas all her weak nonsense. Then it come out--as a sister to a brother. She’d vexed you and she was cut to the heart about it. She loves the ground you walk on, David; and when she don’t hit it off with you--when you look black at her--’tis like holding back water from a flower. By God, she droops!" "Crying, you say?" "Had been, and couldn’t hide it. You’d never have known it; but I said to myself, ’that man don’t guess what he is to her, or that a cold word frets her like a wound.’ Be angry with me if you like, Bowden, and tell me to mind my own business. I’ll take it now--now that I’ve told you." David stopped and got off his horse. "I’m not angry," he said. "The question is, what have you told me? I’ll thank you to say it again; and don’t fear to use clear words. I like ’em best." "The point is that, busy as you are and up to the eyes in affairs and beasts and money-making in general, you’ve missed a lot in Madge that’s worth finding out. And you must find it out if you want her to be a happy woman." "What don’t I know?" "You don’t know how to humour her." "A sane, grown-up woman don’t want humouring, surely?" "Every woman that ever was born wants humouring. Think now. Don’t you humour Rhoda? Don’t even Rhoda do and say things you can’t fathom now and again? Don’t you give in to her against your own better knowledge now and then--for the sake of pleasing her and so that she may the quicker do as you want her to do next time? Be honest--don’t you?" Bowden looked at the other with surprise and nodded.