The realisation was bitter. Even though the woman who was his wife
must always stand betwixt himself and Nan, yet loving her as he did, it
had meant a good deal to Mallory to know that no other man had any
claim upon her.

And earlier in the afternoon, just before the maid had intruded on them
to deliver Rooke's telegram, it had seemed almost as though Nan, too,
had cared. One moment more alone together and he would have
known--been sure.

A vague vision of the future had even flashed through his mind--he and
Nan never any more to one another than good comrades, but each knowing
that underneath their friendship lay something stronger and deeper--the
knowledge that, though unavowed, they belonged to each other. And even
a love that can never be satisfied is better than life without love.
It may bring its moments of unbearable agony, but it is still love--the
most beautiful and glorious thing in the world. And the pain of
knowing that a great gulf is for ever set between two who love is a
penalty that real love can face and triumph over.

But now the whole situation was altered. Unmistakably Maryon Rooke
still meant a good deal to Nan, although Peter felt a certain
consciousness that if he were to pit himself against Rooke he could
probably make the latter's position very insecure. But was it fair?
Was it fair to take advantage of the quick responsiveness of Nan's
emotions--that sensitiveness which gave reply as readily as a violin to
the bow?

She was not a woman to find happiness very easily, and he himself had