“The rest of you!  Emily, you have never succumbed.”

“Oh, yes, I have.  I seem to be saying, ’He may have a few weaknesses, but back of it all he is big and fine.’  But Hilda’s attitude indicates, ‘He is not fine at all.’  And you hate that and want to show her.”

He chuckled.  “By Jove, I do, Emily.  Perhaps it is just as well that I am getting away from her.”

“I wouldn’t admit it if I were you.  I’d rather see you face a thing than run away.”

“If Eve had run away from the snake in the apple tree, she would not have lost her Eden—­poor Eve.”

“Poor Adam—­to follow her lead.  He should have said, ’No, my dear, apples are not permitted by the Food Administrator; we must practice self-denial.’”

“I think I’d rather have him sinning than such a prig.”

“It depends on the point of view.”

He enjoyed immensely crossing swords with Emily.  There was never any aftermath of unpleasantness.  She soothed him even while she criticised.

They spoke presently of Jean and Derry.

“They want to get married.”

“Well, why not?”

“She’s too young, Emily.  Too ignorant of what life means—­and he may go to France any day.  He is getting restless—­and he may see things differently—­that his duty to his country transcends any personal claim—­and then what of Jean?—­a little wife—­alone.”

“She could stay with me.”

“But marriage, marriage, Emily—­why in Heaven’s name should they be in such a hurry?”

“Why should they wait, and miss the wonder of it all, as I have missed it—­all the color and glow, the wine of life?  Even if he should go to France, and die, she will bear his beloved name—­she will have the right to weep.”

He had never seen her like this—­the red was deep in her cheeks, her voice was shaken, her bosom rose and fell with her agitation.

“Emily, my dear girl—­”

“Let them marry, Bruce, can’t you see?  Can’t you see.  It is their day—­there may be no tomorrow.”

“But there are practical things, Emily.  If she should have a child?”

“Why not?  It will be his—­to love.  Only a woman with empty arms knows what that means, Bruce.”

And this was Emily, this rose-red, wet-eyed creature was Emily, whom he had deemed unemotional, cold, self-contained!

“Men forget, Bruce.  You wouldn’t listen to reason when you wooed Jean’s mother.  You were a demanding, imperative lover—­you wanted your own way, and you had it.”

“But I had known Jean’s mother all my life.”

“Time has nothing to do with it.”

“My dear girl—­”

“It hasn’t.”

She was illogical, and he liked it.  “If I let them marry, what then?”

“They will love you for it.”

“They ought to love you instead.”

“I shall be out of it.  They will be married, and you will be in France, and I shall sell—­toys—­”