when I saw that kind, common woman it opened up another kind of life going on apart from money and position and amusement, all the things we were so proud of. It horrified me at first, of course. It is dreadful because it is secret. In itself-- Well, anyhow, the only other thing in my life that was the least bit like it and could stand against it was my absurd little affair with you in Scotland. So you see, I had begun to think of you even before Rachel met you." "Absurd!" René winced at the word. "Wasn't it? I couldn't have gone on with it, you know. It made me feel so helpless, and I felt so mean, letting you care so much. Your letters used to frighten me." "But you cared for me?" "Yes, yes; with one eye on you and the other on my mother." René thought that over uneasily. He was disconcerted by this cool young woman. The enchantment of their meeting had roused and invigorated him, and, as usual, he had surrendered to the emotional flux of the encounter and was prepared for wonders, which, as usual, did not come, or, at least, were not palpable. His eyes never left her face. It was lit with a smile of happiness, an incommunicable joy. Unconscious of their surroundings they had reached Kensington Gardens, and stood by the railings outside the Palace looking over the Round Pond. A gray October day: the trees gaunt and shabby; the heavy clouds tumbled and ragged. A cold northwest wind was blowing. René's ungloved hands were blue. He gripped Cathleen's arm, and she turned her happy eyes on him. "That's good," she said. "You were so strong then." "Cathleen, I mustn't lose sight of you again. You make me forget everything that has been, though that isn't quite what I wanted to say." "I shan't lose sight of you, my dear. It doesn't matter what happens to either of us." René said: "A good deal has happened to me." "Tell me." He told her. She received his story in silence. At last she said: "If you have a friend, it doesn't matter what he does. All the same, it's a nuisance." "What is?" "The nuisance is that I'm a woman and you're a man. Can friendship get over that?" "Love," said René, "can master everything. I love you. Shall we start with that? That's clear, anyhow." "Clear? Oh, yes; but it means being very certain about it and definite. Some of the charm of love goes. It is gone already from me." "I'm sorry." "Don't. I'm trying not to pity you. Oh, René, my foolish dear, I only want to love you and help you." "It is you who are strong," he said. She moved closer to him, so that she could just touch him. "We shall need all the strength we can get if we are not to be broken--strength and patience." "I have a friend," said he, "who thinks that all the confusion comes from sloth and fear." "I should like to meet that friend." II HAPPINESS