the cigarette, and a greyish-white if one blows it out."

Jane knew it was because it had become impregnated with moisture,
but she did not say so, having no desire to contribute her quota of
pats to this air-ball, or to encourage the superficial workings of
his mind just then. She quietly awaited the response to her appeal
to his deeper nature which she felt certain would be forthcoming.
Presently it came.

"It is awfully good of you, Miss Champion, to take the trouble to
think all this and to say it to me. May I prove my gratitude by
explaining for once where my difficulty lies? I have scarcely
defined it to myself, and yet I believe I can express it to you."
Another long silence. Garth smoked and pondered.

Jane waited. It was a very comprehending, very companionable
silence. Garth found himself parodying the last lines of an old
sixteenth-century song:

"Then ever pray that heaven may send
Such weeds, such chairs, and such a friend."

Either the cigarette, or the chair, or Jane, or perhaps all three
combined were producing in him a sublime sense of calm, and rest,
and well-being; an uplifting of spirit which made all good things
seem better; all difficult things, easy; and all ideals, possible.
The silence, like the sunset, was golden; but at last he broke it.

"Two women--the only two women who have ever really been in my life-
-form for me a standard below which I cannot fall,--one, my mother,