"There're lots of ways. A cramp in swimming, or an accident when you're cleaning a gun, or a dose of the wrong medicine--" Nikolai's brows met sharply. "You mean suicide?" "Sure! Why not? It's done every day, and done so the insurance companies can't prove a thing, too." Nikolai rose and stood beside him. "You, who say that you love her," he said sternly, "you who cannot bear that she should suffer even to obtain happiness--you would condemn her to a lifetime of grief and remorse? You might perhaps deceive others. Do you think you could deceive Joan? Happy or not, you know that she cares for you, Blair!" The other's face softened. "Why, yes, I reckon she does, in a way. Once when I had a bad cold and she was scared for fear it was going to run into pneumonia she was awfully upset. I guess you're right," he mused. "It wouldn't do for me to do that. Why, her father's death almost killed her, and he was a mighty worthless old scamp, and she knew it, too! Joan's a deeper feeler than you'd think--Say, I might do something to make her get a divorce?" he suggested, brightening. "What, for instance?" "Oh, other women,"--he made a face of distaste. "I'd hate it--a low woman certainly does get my goat! Still--" Nikolai smiled. "Do you think you could deceive Joan about that, either? You might succeed in hurting her, perhaps; but she would not admit it. Joan is proud." "Lord, don't I know it? Proud as Lucifer! No, I've got to think of something to do that wouldn't be any reflection on her," he mused, "and yet that she wouldn't stand for. Actionable, as the lawyers say--" Nikolai burst out laughing, and taking Archie by the shoulders shook him to and fro. "My dear boy, I fear I cannot enter into this nefarious little plot of yours. I am not going to make love to your wife--I should not know how! Nor yet am I going to lure her from you with poetry and fine words. But--" he added, sobering, "I think with you that she has not yet found herself. There, perhaps, I can help. I can at least offer her my own recipe for happiness." "You mean that formula thing?" said Archie doubtfully. "No formula, Blair. Simply--work." The other's face fell. "Joan never has been one of those idle society girls you read about," he said, defensively. "Sewing, and housekeeping, and civics, and suffrage, and going around giving advice to the poor--She's tried 'em all, Mr. Nikolai." "And found them all other people's work, not hers.--But, Blair, I must warn you," he added gravely, "that when she does find her _metier_ you are in far more danger of losing her to it than to--me, for instance." "No danger of losing what you haven't got," sighed Archie. CHAPTER L