THE SACRED FOUNT
I wondered if I might go further—then risked it. "By sacrifice."
I perceived at once that I needn't fear: her conscience was too good—she was only amused. "Sacrifice, for mercy's sake, of what?"
"Well—for mercy's sake—of his time."
"His time?" She stared. "Hasn't he all the time he wants?"
"My dear lady," I smiled, "he hasn't all the time you want!"
But she evidently had not a glimmering of what I meant. "Don't I make things of an ease, don't I make life of a charm, for him?"
I'm afraid I laughed out. "That's perhaps exactly it! It's what Gilbert Long does for his victim—makes things, makes life, of an ease and a charm."
She stopped yet again, really wondering at me now. "Then it's the woman, simply, who's happiest?"
"Because Brissenden's the man who is? Precisely!"
On which for a minute, without her going on, we looked at each other. "Do you really mean that if you only knew me as I am, it would come to you in the same way to hunt for my confederate? I mean if he weren't made obvious, you know, by his being my husband."
I turned this over. "If you were only in flirta-
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