We two, Sybil Drummond and I, sat looking thoughtfully into the fire. I was glad there was a fire. It often takes the place of a third party during a difficult conversation, or a conference in which there are apt to be painful pauses. It is almost as useful as a stage diplomat's cigarette.

We were blue, we were shaken, we were unhappy. Little Mollie Heatherdale had, the day before, gone off with startling suddenness, to parts unknown, with the goodlooking Danish violinist who had been filling a semi-social, semi-professional engagement in town for the preceding six months. We three "girls", as we still called ourselves, had been faithful friends for more years than any of us cared to count...... ever since, in fact, Mollie, just fifteen, and just out of the convent, had shyly joined the duet of harmony which Sybil and I had played for a year before I think as we sat there, reflecting1 and pondering on what her fate might be, we both remembered tile day she was introduced to us. ( School.'-girls are particular about introductions ! )

How young, how innocent, how helpless she looked in her little black dress, and straw "sailor"! And all these years she had kept the youth, the helplessness, and the innocence in her looks and manners, and as a consequence, had claimed and got protection and love from everyone...except, alas!, her husband.

Now, she was gone, 110 one knew where, and no one knew to what fate!

"After all", said Sybil, putting another lump of sugar in her tea, and thereby making me green with envy, as I diluted my saccharine tab1et, "I don't suppose that either of us is really sun prised. It must have come sooner or later - - something must have ! No one but Mollie could have stood Ralph Heatherdale as long as this. I think it was her sense of humour that kept her up. - - - that, and an insatiable curiosity to know what lie would do next. But, oh Elizabeth, if we only knew where she is!"

I could do nothing but sigh, and watch the convenient fire. Sybil was so peculiarly distressed over the whole occurrence that it set me to thinking. She seemed to understand, to sympathise with Mollie's act and MOllie'S point of view so much more deeply than I did.

Of course, their lives had been different, and their joys and sorrows different. They had drawn blanks in the lottery of marriage, while I had drawn a prize. However, as is the way of the world, their blanks had remained to them, while my prize had been taken from me before the honeymoon had time to become gibbous. Whereupon, they had each and both refused to condole with me, ever after, saying that I was happier in my solitude, with my unspoiled illusions and my unbroken dreams, memories though they were, than I had any right to be. When Sybil spoke of my "resignation," Mollie scoffed, and said "Contentment"!

Be that all as it may, I could see that Sybil could feel the terrors of the possibilities more keenly than I, so I thought things over. Sybil was beautiful, with her slim figure still belying her real age; she was clever, romantic, talented; and she was nooriously neglected and unhappy. How was it, then, that what had happened to Mollie Heatherdale had never chanced to happen to Sybil Drummond ?

"Sybil", said I, breaking the silence, how did it happen that no one ever--"

"It has happened, E1izabeth", she broke in, hurriedly. "Give me another cup of tea. Thanks! It did happen, and that's why I---- oh, Flizabeth - - - why I envy - and tremble for Mollie!

"You never told me," I reproached her. We tell each other "everything".

"Oh, it was nothing, really - - - only a glimpse-----the vision of an hour, of what might have been, if I had not been------"

"Too strong," I helped her, as she hesitated for a word.

"No, not that-not that at all. I wasn't strong. I shouldn't have been, not good, not virtuous, not- any of the rest of it," she said hurriedly. "Don't think that, dear!"

I stared rather, but soothed her with the assurance that I would not think any better of her thin I could help, if she insisted. She laughed a little at that, twirled her rings so that they flashed in the firelight, then began, nervously:-

"I'll tell you all about it. You know Mr. Mauning ? ''

"Aha," I thought under my breath---- "I wondered ---", I answered, aloud. "Yes, I know him, but you have scarcely spoken to him for over a year - in fact, since that night at the Cousins' ball, when I thought he was just a bit too marked in his attentions.

"Ye ,I know," she answered, "Elizabeth, that is the man who stands for all I have wanted, all I have dreamed of, in life. Remember how we used to talk about possible ideals, when we were girls, and how we all - - - - except you-----afterwards that they did not exist except in school-girls' imaginations? Well, I found mine, finally - - - and it was more wonderful than all my dreams! You know for yourself how stunning he is as to looks, and how charming he is. You have heard him play, besides. But you do not know what his mind is . - - - you cannot tell the charm of his companionship---- the delight of finding brains like his - - - the responsiveness, oh, well, we were simply flint and steel, that's all!"

"I've seen the sparks", I commented. I had heard Sybil, flushed and happy, talking, laughing in an ecstasy of enjoyment with young Manning -- "scintillating", as Mollie called it. I knew my clever girl, and how she hungered for some one whose mind found an interest in more than race ponies, shares, and vintages.

"And ---- " I helped her, as she subsided into a reminiscent silence that made her face look like a mask of Despair.

"Oh, well, you know we saw a good deal of each other. He was always blowing in for tea, or John would pick him up in the club, and bring him home to dinner - - - glad, as he expressed it, that I had fonud a youngster to play with, In other words, I had some diversion that would keep me goodtempered, while he was at the - - - club."

"Yes at the club." I repeated. That was a euphemism we had tacitly agreed upon, to explain John'. absences.

"Elizabeth, I soon found out the state of my feelings, and I was disgusted with myself, because he is younger than I. He's only twenty-seven, now, and I am twenty- eight, you know." She looked at me rather challengingly.

I did a little sum in mental arithmetic. "Yes, you are twenty-eight," I replied, which was strictly true. It would have been inhuman to mention the couple of years or so, which had been dropped out of all of our calculations, just before our thirtieth birthdays.

But you don't look it - - - - by years", I assured her, which was also strictly true. She certainly didn't, in that light, and with that tulle bow under her left ear. Her hair, which was bronze ----- God's burnishing, not the chemist's ---- cu4ed in a young way, too, about her temples, and the nape of her neck.

"Well," she went on, the statistics having been settled to everyone's satisfaction, "he played the game beautifully, and so did I. He never showed me by a word, or even a tone, that I was anything to him more than a friend's wife, and I give you my word, I didn't flirt the least bit, really!"

(Dear, dear Sybil! She could no more help flirting than she could help the colour of her big brown eyes !)

"But what is it, Elizabeth, that makes words so unnecessary in a case like that?"

In my one and only case, words had been necessary, and had been duly spoken, but perhaps the legitimate was conducted on a different plan from the illicit, so I only looked profound, and made the Confucian reply, "What, indeed?"

"I knew, and he knew," she went on, "weeks before it happened, and that is what made it so natural."

"I ut, dear, what happened?" I entreated, "You haven't told me yet."

"Oh! well, one night he was to have conic to diuner with John ---- it was the night after the Cousins' ball, ----- and after, we were to try over some music-----"

"You and John?" This was casting a new aspersion on John. However, one could imagine him playing the trombone.

"No, don't be silly! He and I, of course!" Well, he came, but----- John didn't!"

I nodded. I understood.

"I think they had a new consignment of champagne at the club," she explained. I nodded again. Explanations were old things, now, relics of an early-married loyalty, when there was still a hope that' things would be better some day!"

"We had dinner. We loafed on the verandah under the jasmine, a little while, over the coffee. There was a moon, I remember."

I groaned. There always is a moon!

"Then the boy called me, and I went into the dining-room to write down some things that were wanted from the shops in the morning. I was gone some little time, and when I went out on to the verandah again, I found he wasn't there. I heard a note or two on the piano, so I went into the drawing-room. He had just started to look for me, and was standing in the middle of the room, under the chandelier, as I entered. The strong light falling down upon him, made him look so splendid, so strong, so young ----"

(John was forty ----)

"----that, I don't know why, but I just walked up to him as naturally as possible, and he took me in his arms, and held me for a moment, tight, and we neither of us said a word. Then, he tipped my face up by my chin, and I was almost blinded by the light from the chandelier, and ---- oh, ---- by the light I saw in his eyes ---- perhaps reflected from mine I Then he kissed me."

Sybil paused. The fire cracked, and I rustled a bit, silkily, as I leaned forward in my interest to hear more.

"He kissed me, and still holding my face tipped up by my chin, he looked, and looked, as though lie could never look enough. Then, he said---- what do you think he said?"

I hastily ran over the usual stock - - - - "dearest", "heart of my heart," "my adored one", etc., etc., but they didn't seem to fit in with the tone of Sybil's query.

"I don't know", I said, solemnly. It seemed to call for solemnity.

"He said, "Why, Sybil! You have a little wrinkle on each side of your mouth! I never noticed it before."

She stopped a moment, and swallowed some more tea.

"You know", she said, "I have two little wrinkles by my mouth. They are from laughing."

I nodded. I also have two little wrinkles by my mouth, from laughing. And some around my eyes. Also a few in my forehead. These are from surprise. Why not? They merely argue amiability, and a charming credulity - - - - nothing else, necessarily.

"Well," I asked, as she seemed to think she had told me everything. "And then?"

"I took myself out of his arms, and stood there, under the light of the chandelier. I was just in front of the mirror over the mantel, and I saw myself plainly, as we women do see ourselves occasionally, without the mask made by our vanity, our hope that the years don't show, our happiness in the admiration of those we love. I saw it all---- every real line, every shadow that years and tears had made. I counted those years, and then looked at him ---- tall, strong, and young. I counted the difference between us now, and I added ten birthdays to my coming one. It all took but a minute, as such thoughts will, but I lived the ten years in the moment. I lived to be middle-aged ---- worse, old ---- clinging frantically to youth ---- to his youth ---- Ah!" Sybil shuddered, and I felt uncomfortable, and preened myself a bit. It is so silly to think about such things!

"I'm afraid I got rather tragic, then," she continued, "because I walked over to him again, and kissed him as one kisses one's dead. It was good-bye, if he could have only known it ---- and good-bye to more than to him. It was good-bye to youth, to love ---- and to hope. Then I ran out of the room, and went upstairs, sending down word that I must be alone."

"The next day?" Iasked.

"The next day", Sybil went on, and her' voice fairly throbbed with exultation, with triumph, and withal, an aching regret, as she spoke ---- "the next day, I got a letter from him. Elizabeth, there have not been ten such letters written since the beginning of the world, and it makes me dizzy, sometimes, when I think of all it said. He asked me to go away with him ---- to go to India, ---- fancy! ---- India, with him! ---- and ---- I ---- oh, my God! I had to shut the door of Paradise in my face."

Sybil choked a bit, and then sat, examining the condition of her pink nails.

"You answered his letter, of course," ---- and I would have given much to have seen the letter Sybil could write, stirred as she was stirred by this event.

"I answered him, of course, and I knew my answer must be final, so I ---- I blush all over with horror, as I remember what I did. I wrote as though it was all a joke ---- a mere vulgar flirtation, that I ---- was used tot and which he was not to 4ake seriously. I assured him that I thought too much of my home ---- home, Elizabeth! ---- my position. my reputation, to accept his suggestion ---- that he was not to make too much of a moment's folly, that he must forget that it ever happened, and be only friends. In short, it was as impossible, and hateful a letter as anyone could invent, written in as flippant, and scoffing a tone as I am capable of, and it bad the desired effect. He wrote once more, and that letter cut me to the quick, although it was exactly what I had played for. Ugh! it makes me shudder, yet, when I think of it! And he never came near me, and never spoke to me again, except on the rare occasions when we are thrown together at some function or other, and lie is forced to notice we. He shows his contempt then, so, that I am often afraid some one will observe it."

"And that is why," she added elliptically, that I understand, and sympathise with Mollie Heatherdale, and why I tremble for her."

"But I don't understand", I said falsely Being a woman, of course I understood, but I seemed to be expected to say something more. Besides, although I know all the possibilities of Sybil's manifold nature, for good and evil, it didn't seem polite to accept her own condemnation of her moral principles without protest.

"Of course you were in reality too good. But ---- after all, I'm afraid I should have dashed away with him ---- why didn't you?" I asked in a light and airy tone. I rarely use this tone, now ---- in fact, not since that fatal day when I stepped on a weighing machine, heard the music-box play the "Pilgrims' Chorus," and received a ticket marked "168lbs.", with the further comfort, "Great thou art, and shalt be greater." The tone had the effect of startling Sybil. She looked up and said, "Fancy your asking me why! I told you what he said when he kissed me. If the first thing he saw in my face, the first time he kissed me, was a wrinkle, what might he not see in my face before the last, time he kissed me? And how soon do you suppose that last kiss would come?"

I never was good at mathematics, and that problem sounded altogether too much like something in Algebra that used to drive me particularly wild; so I wisely kept silent, pondering the while on the many motives that aid in safe-guarding a woman's honour. And perhaps I also wondered a bit what would have happened if Sybil had gone in for pink lamp-shades, and had avoided top lights as sedulously as Mollie Heatherdale had done, ever since we dropped those unimportant years out of our calendars.