‘Intervene!’ echoed Marion.  Somehow she did not like the word.  Not at that moment, I mean.

‘Yes, intervene,’ he repeated.  There was no mistaking it—­what could be clearer.  Latin, inter, between; venio, I come.  Marion may have translated it differently, but she had served in the capacity of buffer too often to misinterpret its meaning.

‘I am to understand that you wish for my aid in a love affair?’ she said.

’That’s just about it.  You see, I always hoped I should fall in love with a quiet, homely, staid sort of girl, but dash it all, you can’t govern these things, can you?’

‘Sometimes one has to,’ said Marion, picking up dropped stitches.

’So I’ve completely lost my heart to a girl who—­well, she’s an actress.  She’s second from the left in the front row chorus of “Whizz-Bang” at the Hilarity Theatre; I tell you she’s wonderful.’

‘No doubt,’ said Marion, bending lower over her knitting.

’Lottie’s quite a good little girl, you know, but she’s so young—­barely twenty—­and she can’t cook or sew or housekeep or do any of those things which my mother approves.  But she dances wonderfully and kicks higher than anyone else in the chorus——­’

’And you want me to make your mother appreciate the . . . the . . . high kicks?’ broke in Marion rather bitterly.

’Well, not exactly, but you know what mothers are—­about the stage, I mean.  So don’t you understand that if some sensible little woman like you were to speak to her about it, she might reconstruct her views——­’

He paused, staring in a puzzled way at Marion.  Beneath her gentle exterior she has a decided temper which she is apt to deplore and, she affirms, must instantly be held in check.  This, however, was an occasion when she did not seem to think the check action need be applied.  She faced George with flashing eyes.

‘If you were anything of a man,’ she declared, ’you would manage an affair like that alone without asking help from your woman friends.  Good evening.’

‘Good evening,’ responded George, not, I suppose, at the moment thinking of anything more original to say.  He departed in a pensive mood.

‘And that,’ said Marion, concluding the narrative, ’is all there is to be told.’

She sat before me with her eyes downcast, her lips quivering, and a fierce anger rose within me against George Harbinger and mankind in general who could be so blind to Marion’s excellent qualities.  As I took her in my arms and comforted her, kissing her soft cheeks and fluffy hair, I felt that if I were a man she would be the one woman above all others that I would desire to have and to hold henceforth and for evermore.  ‘Never mind,’ I said tenderly, ’some day you’ll meet another who will——­’

‘No, no, I never shall,’ interposed Marion, now openly weeping on my shoulder.  ’I shall never interest any one; I know that now.  You can’t understand, Netta, for men are attracted towards you.  If Henry died tomorrow, you’d have half a dozen offers of marriage at once.’