"I do hope you are not going to weep!" said Nina. She and he sat on a far-sheltered corner of the terrace in the gray shadow, and she had just told him that "everything was over." As "everything" had been going on for the best part of three months, it was, perhaps, only natural that she should experience some concern as to how he meant to take it. He was slow to reassure her, and she was impatient. "Because," she explained, "I never know just what to say or do when they weep. I'm never at a loss at other times; but-" "Of course I shall not weep," he protested at length, with something of indignation in his tone. "Whatever gave you such an idea?" "It isn't unusual," she explained. "Sometimes they storm. I've known them to swear most awfully. But when they are young, as you are, they so often just melt; and it is very trying, you know. Perhaps you'll swear. I'd much rather have it so. There was Emborough, for instance. He-" "If you don't mind," he cut in, "I'd prefer not to hear."