“However, the thing is this,” he presently resumed, “if you could buy off Magsie—­simply tell her frankly that you’ve been a fool, that you don’t want to go on with it—­no, eh?” A little discouraged by Warren’s dubious shake of the head, he went on to the next suggestion.  “Well, then, if you can’t—­tell her that there cannot be any talk at present of a legal separation, and that you are going away.  Would you have the nerve to do that?  Tell her that you’ll be back in eight months or a year.  But of course the best thing would be to buy her off, or call it off in some way, and then write Rachael fully, frankly—­tell her the whole thing, ask her to wait at least one year, and then let you see her—­”

Warren could see himself writing this letter, could even see himself walking into the dear old sitting-room at Home Dunes.

“I might see Magsie,” he said after thought, “and ask her what she would take in place of what she wants.  It’s just possible, but I don’t believe she would—–­”

“Well, what could she do if you simply called the whole thing off?” George asked.  “Hang it! it’s a beastly thing to do, but if she wants money, you’ve got it, and you’ve done her no harm, though nobody’ll believe that.”

“She’ll take the heartbroken attitude,” Warren said slowly.  “She’ll say that she trusted me, that she can’t believe me, and so on.”

“Well, you can stand that.  Just set your jaw, and think of Rachael, and go through with it once and for all.”

“Yes, but then if she should turn to Rachael again?”

“Ah, well, she mustn’t do that.  Let her think that, after the year, you’ll come to a fresh understanding rather than let her fight.  And meanwhile, if I were you, I would write Rachael a long letter and make a clean breast.  Alice and the girls go down to-morrow; they’ll keep me in touch.  How about coming in here for a bachelor dinner Friday?  Then we can talk developments.”

“George, you certainly are a generous loyal friend!” Warren Gregory said, a dry huskiness in his voice as he wrung the other’s hand in good-bye.

George went upstairs to tell the interested and excited and encouraged Alice about their talk, and Alice laughed and cried with-pleasure, confident that everything would come out well now, and grateful beyond words that Greg was showing so humbled and penitent a spirit.

“Leave Rachael to me!” Alice said exultingly.  “How we’ll all laugh at this nonsense some day!”

Even Warren Gregory, walking down the street, was conscious of new hope and confidence.  He was not thinking of Magsie to-day, but of Rachael, the most superb and splendid figure of womanhood that had ever come into his life.  How she had raged at him in that last memorable talk; how vital, how vigorous she was, uncompromising, direct, courageous!  And as a swimmer, who miles away from shore in the cruel shifting green water, might think with aching longing of the quiet home garden, the kitchen with