“I shall tell you nothing,” declared Mavis.

“I’ve a right to know.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I tell you, no.  You left me to fight alone; it was all so terrible, I daren’t think of it more than I can help.”

“But—­”

“There are no ‘buts,’ no anything.  I bore the sorrow alone, and I shall keep to myself all the tenderness that remains:  nothing can ever alter it.”

“You say that as if you hated me.  Don’t do that, little Mavis.  I love you more than I do my mean selfish self.”

“You love me!”

“I do now.  I wanted you to know.  Once or twice, I hoped—­never mind what.  But from the way you said what you said just now, I see it’s utterly ‘off.’”

“You never said anything truer.  And do you know why?” she asked with flaming eye.

“Because I left you in the lurch?”

“Not altogether that, but because you were a coward, and, above all, a fool, in the first pkce.  I know what I was.  I see what other women are, and it makes me realise my value.  I realise my value as, if you’d married me, I’d have faced death, anything with you.  Pretty women with a few brains who’ll stick to a man are rather scarce nowadays.  But it wasn’t good enough for you:  you wouldn’t take the risk.  You’ve no—­no stuffing.  That is why, if you and I were left alone in the world together for the rest of our lives, I should never do anything but despise you.”

Perigal’s face went white.  He bit his thin lips.  Then he smiled as he said: 

“Retributive justice.”

“I’m sorry to be so candid.  But it’s what I’ve been thinking for months.  I’ve only waited for an opportunity to say it.”

“We’ve both scored,” he said.  “You can’t take away what you’ve given, and that’s a lot to be thankful for—­but—­but—­”

“Well?”

“I’m dependent for my bread and butter on a woman who bores me to death, and have to look to a family for any odd jobs I may get—­a family that, whatever they may do for me, I should always despise.  That, and because I see what a fool I’ve been to lose you, is where you’ve scored.”

As he strolled away, wondering how Mavis could be so indifferent to him after all that had happened, she did not trouble to glance after his retreating form.

Henceforth, Mavis was left much to herself.  Perigal avoided her; whilst Windebank, about this time, to her annoyance, discontinued his frequent visits.  Having so much time on her hands, Mavis returned to her old prepossessions about the why and wherefore of the varied happenings in her life.

Looking back, she found that her loving trust, her faith in her lover, her girlish innocence of the ways of sensual men had been chiefly responsible for her griefs; that it was indeed, as Perigal said, that she in her weakness had been preyed upon by the strong.  Thus, it followed that girlish confidence in the loved one’s word, the primal instinct of abnegation of self to the adored one, whole-hearted faith—­all these characteristics (which were above price) of a loving heart were in the nature of a handicap in the struggle for happiness.  It also followed that a girl thus equipped would be at a great disadvantage in rivalry with one who was cold, selfish, calculating.  Mavis shuddered as she reached this conclusion.