Who knows? And God--or the devil--has given to every woman the knowledge
of her possibilities. Men have only the ignorance of theirs."
"What has this to do with Cuckoo and me?" Julian said. "This bottle is
empty, Valentine."
Valentine rang hastily for another.
"And what on earth has it got to do with a battle between you and
Cuckoo?"
"Everything. She hates me. She has told you so again and again."
Julian looked expressively uncomfortable.
"I've always stood up for you," he began.
"I believe it. She hates me not because I am myself, but simply because I
am your closest friend. Hush, Julian. It's much better all this should be
said once for all. Many women are intensely jealous of the men friends of
men whom they either love, or who they mean shall love them. Look at the
wives who drive their husbands' old chums from intimacy into the outer
darkness of acquaintanceship. Wedding-days break, as well as bind, faith.
And you have had your wedding-day with Cuckoo."
"That was an accident. She loathes to think of it."
"She may say so. But it puts a fine edge on her hatred of me,
nevertheless."
"No, Valentine, no. Her dislike of you is simply silly--instinctive."
"She tells you so. Ah! I was wrong to call her nothing.
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