Longmore was silent awhile. "I wonder if you would understand me," he said at last, "if I were to tell you that I have for Madame de Mauves the most devoted friendship?"
"You underrate my intelligence. But in that case you ought to exert your influence to put an end to these painful domestic scenes."
"Do you suppose," cried Longmore, "that she talks to me about her domestic scenes?"
Madame Clairin stared. "Then your friendship is n't returned?" And as Longmore turned away, shaking his head,—"Now, at least," she added, "she will have something to tell you. I happen to know the upshot of my brother's last interview with his wife." Longmore rose to his feet as a sort of protest against the indelicacy of the position into which he was being forced; but all that made him tender made him curious, and she caught in his averted eyes an expression which prompted her to strike her blow. "My brother is monstrously in love with a certain person in Paris; of course he ought not to be; but he would n't be a De Mauves if he were not. It was this unsanctified passion that spoke. 'Listen, madam,' he cried at last: 'let us live like people who understand life! It's unpleasant to be forced to say such things out right, but you have a way of bringing one down to the rudiments. I'm faithless, I'm heartless, I'm brutal,
