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thereby.
    “Oh, I admit that my motives aren’t disinterested,” he told her coolly, just as if he had read her thoughts. “But all the same, I’ve already done you quite a bit of good! It’s a far healthier state of affairs for you to have lost your temper with me than for you to be fainting all over the place. Why, you’ve even got quite an attractive colour in your cheeks.” He regarded her with his head on one side. “And your eyes are positively sparkling. Temper suits you, my child!”
    Lucy clenched her hands and made a terrific effort to speak calmly.
    “You would be more accurate if you referred to my ‘temper’ as more than justifiable anger,” she said. “Hasn’t it occurred to you that you’ve poked and pried into my private affairs in an absolutely disgusting way —and that you’ve shown no consideration for my feelings—”
    “I thought you said you didn’t want pity?” he interpolated.
    “Nor do I,” Lucy countered swiftly. “All I want is to be left alone—”
    “We’d better get this straightened out,” Owen announced firmly. “Without giving any warning that you were in a highly emotional—one might almost say distraught—condition, you inflict yourself upon people who have every right to assume that you are a perfectly normal, balanced young woman who is prepared to behave rationally and to work hard. In the circumstances, can you honestly blame me if I take what steps I deem fit to make sure that you do come up to that specification?”
    “From your point of view, I suppose not,” Lucy admitted grudgingly. “But I think someone wiser and kinder than you might have found another way—have you ever been really up against it, Mr. Vaughan?”
    “No,” he answered unhesitatingly, “I haven’t. But that state of affairs can’t be expected to continue indefinitely, of course. I shall meet my Waterloo sooner or later. And when I do—”
    “You’ll meet it like a hero!” Lucy finished mockingly. “I’m sure you will, Mr. Vaughan. Insensitive people get off fairly lightly, you know.”
    He regarded her thoughtfully. He had thought her a colourless, spineless personality, but really, there was more to her than he had imagined could possibly be the case.
    “All right, we’ll leave me out,” he announced. “After all, what I might do in similar circumstances can only be guesswork. All the same, I do know something about suffering. Take my aunt, for instance. Not so very long ago she had a husband whom she adored and who adored her. What’s more, they were really good friends—which is something different again. He died tragically and unexpectedly. Then, two or three years ago, this damned arthritis got a grip of her. It’s hopeless and she knows it. She’s never out of pain— sometimes desperate pain. But as you will find out when you know her better, she has courage and endurance—I'd give all I've got to be able to do something for her—” he finished with sudden fury.
    Lucy was startled. It was the first indication he had shown of having any feeling for others' suffering, and she felt at a disadvantage.
    “Not quite such a brute as you thought?” he suggested ironically. “Disappointing, isn’t it? But to continue—there’s dear old Bertha. Years ago she was engaged to a boy she’d known all her life. They’d had to wait because he’d got an invalid mother to provide for and he hadn’t got enough money to get married as well. Well, the war came, the old lady died and they were to be married on his next leave. But he never had it. He was killed. But does she moan? Never!”
    “But there’s a difference—” Lucy began stormily— and stopped short.
    “Yes, there is, isn’t there?” Owen said deliberately. “They can think of their men with pride and love. You—”
    Lucy sprang to her feet.
    “But that’s just it—” and stopped short because Owen’s expression had completely altered. It was as though, because at last he had made her