The tear fell with a laugh. She touched my cheek with her hand.
"When you're intelligent like that," she said, "I really love you."
For a mere man to be certified by Barbara as intelligent is praise indeed.
"I wonder," she said, a little later, "whether those two are going to be happy?"
"As happy," said I, "as a mutual admiration society of two people can possibly be."
She rebuked me for a tinge of cynicism in my estimate. They were both of them dears and the marriage was genuine Heaven-made goods. I avowed absolute agreement.
"But what would have happened," she said reflectively, "if Jaffery had come along first and there had been no question of Adrian. Would they have been happy?"
Then I found my opportunity. "Woman," said I, "aren't you satisfied? You have made one match—you, and you'll pardon me for saying so, not Heaven—and now you want to unmake it and make a brand-new hypothetical one."
"All your talk," she said, "doesn't help poor Jaffery."
I put my hand to my head to still the flickering in my brain, kissed her and retired to my dressing-room. Barbara smiled, conscious of triumph over me.