He held out his hand. She took it instantly.

"A very extraordinary woman, you mean, dear lady," he said gravely. "In
some ways the most extraordinary that I have ever known."

"It's not in the line of diplomacy, I hope," she shrugged.

"Not the feminine line, I assure you; Madeline Spencer is typical of it,
and the top of her class--which means she is wonderfully clever,
inscrutable as fate, and without scruple or conscience. No, thank God,
you do not belong in the class of feminine diplomats!"

"Thank you, Mr. Harleston!" she said gently, permitting him, for an
instant, to look deep into her brown eyes. "Now, since you trust me, I
want to refer briefly to Mrs. Spencer's insinuation."

"Robert Clephane was all that she said--and more. Middle-aged when he
married me, before a year was passed I had found that I was only another
experience for him; and that after a short time he had resumed his ways
of--gaiety. Not caring to be pitied, nor to be so soon a deserted wife,
nor yet to admit my loss of attraction for him, I dashed into the gay
life of Paris with reckless fervour. I know I was indiscreet. I know I
fractured conventionality and was dreadfully compromised--but I never
violated the Seventh Commandment. Robert Clephane and I were not
separated--except by a locked door.

"Then one day some two years back, dreadfully mangled, they brought him
home. An aeroplane had fallen with him--with the usual result. That
moment saw the end of my gay life. I passed it up as completely as