"It was interesting, drolly interesting.... that letter." she continued. "She couldn't understand why your mission detained you so long!" Yet again she laughed, merrily, ringingly. Suddenly she shifted, lithely, the poise of her body. "Bah! I weary of this, and of you.... But before I go," she leaned far forward, eyes on his, vivid lips curved, bare breast shimmering, "a kiss, My Fool!" "Why do you come here?" he cried, piteously. "Have you not done enough? Is there no pity in your heart--no sympathy--no human feeling of any kind?" "I've heard you say so, in other days," she smiled. "Let me go," he begged. "Haven't you done enough? There is no misery that I have not suffered--no degradation that I have not reached--no depths to which I have not sunk--no dishonor that I have not felt. Great God! What more do you want of me?" He was a pitiful object, sunken, shrivelled, abject. She looked on him with eyes that revealed only amusement--amusement, and power. She asked, lightly: "What more could I want of you? What more have you to give, My Fool?" "There's a chance for me," he pleaded, hysterically; "a little, pitiful chance. Can't you find in that dead thing you call a heart just one shred of pity that I may have that chance that is held out to me? I don't ask much in return for all that I have given--just to be let alone.... Ah, go! Go! Please, please go!" He was on his knees now, thin hands raised in beseeching. She looked down on him from where she sat, upon the desk, little feet swinging. She raised delicate, arched brows. "Anyone would think," she declared, "that I had done wrong by you." He struggled erect. "By God, I'll have my chance!" he cried. "I'll have it in spite of you! Do you hear? Go!" "In good time, My Fool," she returned, easily. "When you shall have ceased to amuse me." "You'll go now," he insisted, frenziedly. "Now!" He stumbled forward, to grasp the white, rounded arms. She caught his wrists, holding him easily. "You're not so strong as you were, you know," she said, lightly. Suddenly she thrust him from her, reeling. Her eyes flashed; her lips curved, in scorn. "You sicken me." And then: "You asked me if I had had all I wanted of you. I have, and more. And now I'll go, and leave you to your 'chance!' But not until--" She had risen, and gone to the great chair. Into it she sank. He was before her.... She leaned forward, eyes heavy lidded, white arms extended, white teeth glowing, white shoulders shimmering. She hissed, sibilantly: "A kiss, My Fool!" He turned from her.... Turned half back again.... "No!" he gasped, weakly.... "No." She hissed again: "Kiss me, My Fool!" The scarlet roses at her breast moved a little. Her lips were parted.... Her eyes were on his.... He cried, thickly, agonizedly: "I'm free of you! Free, I tell you! I'm going back to wife--to child--to home--to honor! I'm free!"