The detective felt the thrill of her; realized the magnetism of the woman; knew the danger he courted; understood that she was openly making a bid for his admiration—perhaps for something more. He found himself returning her gaze; he saw her lips, dimly, as through a haze, and he knew that they were protected from the view of others by the screen of leaves that shaded them—and then he saw one of her white arms steal softly upward toward him, and he knew that in another instant it would wind itself around his neck. Still he did not move. He caught the wrist of that white arm just in time, and gently but firmly he forced it back again upon her lap, although he did not attempt to remove her other hand, where it was resting on the back of one of his. “You refuse me the key?” she murmured, so low that it was almost a whisper. “You keep the gate locked against me? You shut me out, leave me in the cold? Are you wise to do that, my friend?” “Who shall tell what wisdom is, Juno?” he replied to her. “When we deem ourselves the wisest, we are often the most stupid. But you are right, nevertheless. The gate is locked—only there are two gates instead of one, and that one behind which you are sheltered is an impregnable one. I would not dare to open it if I could do so, and I doubt if I could.” “You charge me with insincerity, my friend?” “Ah, that term is also ambiguous, countess. You are sincere enough so far as your purpose is concerned; but that purpose is not what you would have me think it is.” She drew her hand away from his. For a time she was silent, and Nick, watching her, saw that she was thinking deeply. He waited, wondering what would be the fruit of that thought. At last she turned to him, and looked into his eyes again; but now her expression had changed greatly; there was a depth to it which he had not seen there before. “Will you believe me if I speak to you with entire frankness?” she asked him. “Yes, countess. At least I will try to do so.” “I will be, for once at least, entirely sincere.” “I believe that you mean what you say.” “Then listen. This scene between us outrages all precedent, does it not?” “In a way it does; yes.” “I invited you to come here with me to this secluded corner of my conservatory. I drew you down upon the seat beside me. I have deliberately made love to you, and I have as deliberately, by my actions, given you permission to take me into your arms—I, who have the power to command the love of almost any man in those rooms yonder. That is true, isn’t it, my friend?” “Quite true.” “I did not begin, as I would have done if I were playing at love, did I, by inviting you to make love to me, by using coy glances, and all the little arts that a woman is master of—I did not do any of that.” “No.”