"I was the worst—because I think I was in love with Bob all the time."
"I was just as bad—because I thought you were too," said Harry.
"How could we do it then?" she asked.
"That's the odd thing. It didn't seem at all out of the way at the time," he pondered.
"You'd do it again now, if the case arose, but I shouldn't. That's the difference," said she.
Harry considered this remark for a moment with an impartial air. "Well, perhaps I should," he admitted at last, "but you needn't tell that to Cecily. Content yourself with discussing it with Mina or Mr Neeld."
"I'm tired of both of them," she cried. "They do nothing but talk about you."
That night as he sat in the garden at Blent with his wife, Harry returned the compliment by talking of the Imp. He looked up toward Merrion and saw the lights in the windows.
"I think Mina is with us for life, Cecily," said he.
"I like her to be," she answered with a laugh. "First because I like being loved, and she loves me. And then I like you to be loved, and she loves you. Besides, she's been so closely mixed up with it all, hasn't she? She knew about you before I did, she knew Blent before I did. And it's not only with you and me. She knew your mother, Addie Tristram, too."