At this Lady Allonby came to him, catching his hand. "There is only you,
Simon. Oh, there is no hope in that lustful devil yonder. But you are not
all base, Simon. You are a man,--ah, God! if I were a man I would rip out
that devil's heart--his defiled and infamous heart! I would trample upon
it, I would feed it to dogs--!" She paused. Her impotent fury was jerking
at every muscle, was choking her. "But I am only a woman. Simon, you used
to love me. You cannot have forgotten, Simon. Oh, haven't you any pity on a
woman? Remember, Simon--remember how happy we were! Don't you remember how
the night-jars used to call to one another when we sat on moonlit evenings
under the elm-tree? And d'ye remember the cottage we planned, Simon?--where
we were going to live on bread and cheese and kisses? And how we quarrelled
because I wanted to train vines over it? You said the rooms would be too
dark. You said--oh, Simon, Simon! if only I had gone to live with you in
that little cottage we planned and never builded!" Lady Allonby was at his
feet now. She fawned upon him in somewhat the manner of a spaniel expectant
of a thrashing.

The Vicar of Heriz Magna dispassionately ran over the leaves of his
prayer-book, till he had found the marriage service, and then closed the
book, his forefinger marking the place. Lord Rokesle stood apart, and with
a sly and meditative smile observed them.

"Your plea is a remarkable one," said Simon Orts. "As I understand it, you
appeal to me to meddle in your affairs on the ground that you once made
a fool of me. I think the obligation is largely optional. I remember
quite clearly the incidents to which you refer; and it shames even an
old sot like me to think that I was ever so utterly at the mercy of a
good-for-nothing jilt. I remember every vow you ever made to me, Anastasia,
and I know they were all lies. I remember every kiss, every glance, every
caress--all lies, Anastasia! And gad! the only emotion it rouses in me is