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As long as I care for him, I swear to God, I won't!" she said, in
her low, rich voice--and I saw by her face that she was a woman of her
word. "Besides, he would come raving and imploring--and I'm not quite
a woman of stone. It isn't all jam to go back to my husband. Goodness
knows why I am thinking of it. It's for your sake. Do you know that?"
I did not. I was puzzled. Why in the world should Lola Brandt, whom I
have only met three or four times, revolutionise the whole of her life
for my sake?
"I should have thought it was for Dale's," said I.
"I suppose you would, being a man," she replied.
I retorted, with a smile: "Woman is the eternal conundrum to which the
wise man always leaves her herself to supply the answer. Doubtless one
of these days you'll do it. Meanwhile, I'll wait in patience."
She gave me one of her sidelong, flashing glances and sewed with more
vigour than appeared necessary. I admired the beautiful curves of her
neck and shoulders as she bent over her work. She seemed too strong to
wield such an insignificant weapon as a needle.


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