"Nan, don't be a fool!" she insisted vehemently. "You'd be wretched if
you married the wrong man--far, far more wretched in the future than
you've ever been in the past. You'd only repent that last step once,
and that would be--always!"

"My dear Kit, I've taken so many steps that I've repented! But when
you're in the middle of a staircase you must inevitably continue taking
steps--either up or down. And if I take this one, and repent it--well,
at all events it will be the last step."

"Not necessarily," replied Kitty drily.

"Where are you wandering now?" gibed Nan. "Into the Divorce Courts--or
the Thames? Surely you know me better than that! I value my creature
comforts far too much to exploit either, I assure you. The Divorce
Courts are muddy--and the Thames is wet."

Kitty was silent a moment, her heart torn by the bitterness in the
girl's voice.

"You'd regret it, I know," she insisted gravely.

Nan rose from her cushions, swinging her hat in her hand.

"Always remembering that a prophet hath no honour in his own country,"
she commented curtly over her shoulder, and sauntered away towards the
house, defiantly humming the air of a scandalous little French song as
she went.

Kitty sank back into the hammock, lighting a cigarette to aid her