“Not in every case.”
She glanced at him hurriedly, and her voice softened. “Generally,” she said, “it means so much to a woman that, like a fool, she throws overboard all that reason, common-sense, judgment, urge her to keep. And the ship sails splendidly at first——” She paused.
“And after a time?” suggested Mayne.
“Oh, it still sails splendidly!” she exclaimed, with a laugh. “But it sails on without her. She’s left struggling in the sea—or stranded on the first desert island.”
“And,” said Mayne in a business-like tone, “with proper management you think there need never have been an island?”
“Not a desert island.”
“But the desert island can be cultivated, Cis.”
“Yes—now,” said Cecily, drearily. “There’s no barrier now—except my lack of heart to do it.”
Mayne was glad of the personal pronoun. They were coming to close quarters.
“Was there ever a barrier?” he inquired.