Aggie dropped her lids and stared down at her narrow white hands. Then a premonitory twitch ran along her lips and drew her forehead into little wrinkles of perplexity. "I don't want you to think I've any cause of complaint against Stanley--none whatever. There has never been a single unkind word... We've always lived together on the most perfect terms..." Feeling that some form of response was required of her, Nona emitted a vague murmur. "Only now--he's--he's left me," Aggie concluded, the words wrung out of her in laboured syllables. She raised one hand and smoothed back a flat strand of hair which had strayed across her forehead. Nona was silent. She sat with her eyes fixed on that small twitching mask--real face it could hardly be called, since it had probably never before been suffered to express any emotion that was radically and peculiarly Aggie's. "You knew that too?" Aggie continued, in a studiously objective tone. Nona made a sign of assent. "He has nothing to reproach me with--nothing whatever. He expressly told me so." "Yes; I know. That's the worst of it." "The worst of it?" "Why, if he had, you might have had a good row that would have cleared the air." Suddenly Nona felt Aggie's eyes fixed on her with a hungry penetrating stare. "Did you and he use to have good rows, as you call it?" "Oh, by the hour--whenever we met!" Nona, for the life of her, could not subdue the mocking triumph in her voice. Aggie's lips narrowed. "You've been very great friends, I know; he's often told me so. But if you were always quarrelling how could you continue to respect each other?" "I don't know that we did. At any rate, there was no time to think about it; because there was always the making-up, you see." "The making-up?" "Aggie," Nona burst out abruptly, "have you never known what it was to have a man give you a jolly good hug, and feel full enough of happiness to scent a whole garden with it?" Aggie lifted her lids on a glance which was almost one of terror. The image Nona had used seemed to convey nothing to her, but the question evidently struck her with a deadly force. "A man--what man?" Nona laughed. "Well, for the sake of argument--Stanley!" "I can't imagine why you ask such queer questions, Nona. How could we make up when we never quarrelled?" "Is it queer to ask you if you ever loved your husband?" "It's queer of you to ask it," said the wife simply. Nona's swift retort died unspoken, and she felt one of her slow secret blushes creeping up to the roots of her hair. "I'm sorry, Aggie. I'm horribly nervous--and I suppose you are. Hadn't we better start fresh? What was it you wanted to see me about?" Aggie was silent for a moment, as if gathering up all her strength; then she answered: "To tell you that if he wants to marry you I shan't oppose a divorce any longer." "Aggie!"