the poet—once said to me that man was essentially imperfect until he was married.'
'It is true,' I agreed. 'And woman until she is dead.'
'I don't think he meant it quite in that sense,' said Nellie, rather puzzled.
'I don't think he meant it in any sense,' murmured Dolly, a little unkindly.
We might have gone on talking in this idle way for ever so long had not Archie at this point dropped a large flower-pot and smashed it to bits. He stood looking at the bits for a moment, and then came towards us and sank into a chair.
'I'm off!' he announced.
'And half are on one side, and half on the other,' said Dolly regretfully.
A sudden impulse seized me. I got up, put on my straw hat, took off my coat, walked out into the sun, and began to move flower-pots across the broad terrace. I heard a laugh from Archie, a little cry from Dolly, and from Nellie Phaeton, 'Goodness, what's he doin' that for?' I was not turned from my purpose. The luncheon bell rang. Miss Phaeton, whip and twine in hand, walked into the house. Archie followed her, saying as he passed that he hoped I shouldn't find it warm. I went on shifting the flower-pots. They were very heavy. I broke two, but I went on. Presently Dolly put up her parasol and came out from the shade to watch me. She stood there for a moment or two. Then she said,—
