For nearly four years this peculiar friendship, so galling to Duncan, so gratifying to Helen, had continued intermittently; and though many ruptures had occurred, they had all ended in Duncan's suing for peace. The long continuance of so unnatural a relation was rendered possible only by the fact that Helen Osgood had, so far, been incapable of experiencing the feelings of other women, and seeing no reason to transgress where there was no temptation, she contented herself with inspiring a love where others excited a passing fancy. Other women might amuse Duncan, but she would control him; other women might love him, but she would study him; other women might lose him, but she would remain his master. That was her analysis of the affair, and, so far, she felt that it had been correct. It is true she had not seen Duncan since the quarrel in January, and she knew that he must, in the meantime, have been intimate with other women; but she felt confident that he would come back to her and plead again for the love she had so often refused him. She did not believe that Duncan's passion was of a lofty nature. On the contrary, she doubted his sincerity just as she doubted the sincerity of every man of the world. She knew perfectly well the view of life held by the men about her, and she often said that were she a man she would be a freebooter too, and capture the hearts that came in her way. She thought that if a woman was weak enough to be trapped into taking a false step, she got her deserts. She, for one, would go armed, not because her conscience troubled her, but because she did not consider the game worth the risk.