“Good heavens!” said Blake.  “As much as that!”

She nodded vehemently.  “Yes, quite as much.  And he loves her, too, loves her with his whole soul.  Perhaps you never knew that they would have been married long ago in Simla if Muriel hadn’t overheard some malicious gossip and thrown him over.  How in the world she made him let her go I never knew, but she did it, though I believe it nearly broke his heart.  He came to me afterwards and begged me to keep her with me as long as I could, and take care of her.”

“All this,” broke in Grange, “is what you promised never to speak of?”

“Yes,” she admitted recklessly.  “But it is what you ought to know—­what you must know—­before you go any further.”

“It will make no difference to me,” he observed.  “It is quite obvious that she never cared for him in the smallest degree.  Why, my dear girl, she hates the man!”

Daisy gave vent to a sigh of exasperation.  “When you come to talk about women’s feelings, Blake, you make me tired.  You will never be anything but a great big booby in that respect as long as you live.”

Grange became silent.  He never argued with Daisy.  She had always had the upper hand.  He watched her as she sat down again, her pretty face in the glow of the fire; but though fully aware of the fact, she would not look at him.

“She is a dear girl, and you are not half good enough for her,” she said, stooping a little to the blaze.

“I know that,” he answered bluntly.  “I wasn’t good enough for you, either, but you would have had me—­once.”

She made a dainty gesture with one shoulder.  “That also was aeons ago.  Why disturb that poor old skeleton?”

He did not answer, but he continued to watch her steadily with eyes that held an expression of dumb faithfulness—­like the eyes of a dog.

Daisy was softly and meditatively poking the fire.  “If you marry her, Blake,” she said, “you will have to be enormously good to her.  She isn’t the sort of girl to be satisfied with anything but the best.”

“I should do my utmost to make her happy,” he answered.

She glanced up momentarily.  “I wonder if you would succeed,” she murmured.

For a single instant their eyes met.  Daisy’s fell away at once, and the firelight showed a swift deepening of colour on her face.

As for Blake, he stood quite stiff for a few seconds, then with an abruptness of movement unusual with him, he knelt suddenly down beside her.

“Daisy,” he said, and his voice sounded strained, almost hoarse, “you’re not vexed about it?  You don’t mind my marrying?  It isn’t—­you know—­it isn’t—­as if—­”

He broke off, for Daisy had jerked upright as if at the piercing of a nerve.  She looked at him fully, with blazing eyes.  “How can you be so ridiculous, Blake?” she exclaimed, with sharp impatience.  “That was all over and done with long, long ago, and you know it.  Besides, even if it hadn’t been, I’m not a dog in the manger.  Surely you know that too.  Oh, go away, and don’t be absurd!”