"It must have been-hell!" Merivale said. "Just so," bowed his Grace. "It was the very worst kind of hell, as I know." "The wonder is that she has come through it unscathed." The hazel eyes lifted. "Not quite unscathed, my dear Anthony. Those years have left their mark." "It were inevitable, I suppose. But I confess I have not seen the mark." "Possibly not. You see the roguery, and the dauntless spirit." "And you?" Merivale watched him curiously. "Oh, I see beneath, my dear! But then, I have had experience of the sex, as you know." "And you see-what?" "A certain cynicism, born of the life she has led; a streak of strange wisdom; the wistfulness behind the gaiety; sometimes fear; and nearly always the memory of loneliness that hurts the soul."