took her place she relaxed her hold. This is the finer temperament, but
it suffers most.

She would not try to take Aylmer away. Let him remain with his
red-haired Miss Argles! He might even marry her. He deserved it.

She meant to tell Vincy, of course. Poor Vincy, _he_ didn't know of the
treachery. Now she must devote herself to the children, and be good and
kind to Bruce. At least, Bruce was _true_ to her in his way.

He had been in love when they married, but Edith shrewdly suspected he
was not capable of very much more than a weak rather fatuous sentiment
for any woman. And anyone but herself would have lost him many years
ago, would very likely have given him up. But she had kept it all
together, had really helped him, and was touched when she remembered
that jealous scene he made about the letter. The letter she wouldn't at
first let him see. Poor Bruce! Well, they were linked together. There
were Archie, the angel, and Dilly, the pet.... She was twenty-eight and
Aylmer forty. He ought not to hold so strong a position in her mind.
But he did. Yes, she was in love with him in a way--it was a mania, an
obsession. But she would now soon wrestle with it and conquer it. The
great charm had been his exclusive devotion--but also his appearance,
his figure, his voice. He looked sunburnt and handsome. He was laughing
as he talked to the miserable creature (so Edith called her in her own
mind).

Then Edith had a reaction. She would cure herself today! No more
flirtation, no more amitié amoureuse. They were going away. The
children, darlings, how they loved her! And Bruce. She was reminding
herself she must be gentle, good, to Bruce. He had at least never