He had heard rumours, which he didn’t quite believe, that Eddie was to marry this remarkable young woman. He knew that Eddie was capable of extraordinarily quixotic deeds, and he thought it just as well to have a friend at court, in case---- Moreover, he liked Angelica, and was well disposed toward her. The rebuffs he had received, rude as they had been, hadn’t either hurt or discouraged him. The Lord who had made him so vulnerable to the charms of the fair sex had likewise provided him with a sort of protective armour. "Of course I’ll be your friend," said Angelica; "but I just must speak to Vincent." "I thought you had seen him," said the doctor. "You went up-stairs." "I forgot to tell him something very important. If you don’t want me to come, just make him come down here--please!" She knew how to be meek enough to serve her ends. "Please!" she said again, with all her cajolery. "Please, doctor! Just get him to come down and speak to me through the door--just for an instant!" He hesitated. "I want to do anything I can for you----” "And wouldn’t you please just pay that cab?" she said. "I’m afraid he’ll wait till you do." He had a little money on hand, as it happened, and he was proud to be able to play so gallant a rôle. "With pleasure!" he said. "But then won’t you agree to postpone your talk with Vincent?" "I can’t!" she cried, piteously. "Oh, do please get him down!" "Very well," he said, with a sigh and a smile. She waited patiently, close to the screen. Everything was quiet. The waiting chauffeur had shut off his engine and sat on the step of his cab, smoking. Far away, from some other house, came the thumping rhythm of a piano-player, and quite close to her the busy chirping of little nocturnal insects. Before very long, Vincent’s heavy tread sounded on the stairs. His big body loomed up in the dim light of the hall, and drew near to her; but he did not unlock the door. She suppressed a smile. He was afraid of her--that big, masterful poet, forever proclaiming himself a _man_! "Well!" he demanded, sternly, of the girl outside. "I spoiled your letter," she said. "Eddie’ll never get it." "What? I’ll write another----” "You’d better not do that, Vincent. He wouldn’t be pleased with the way you’ve acted." "Perhaps not; but it’s my duty----” "Don’t any of them know? Not your mother or any one?" "Of course not. I’m not the sort to tell such a thing. If it wasn’t my duty now, I wouldn’t." "I thought it was to get money to help me out." "Well--yes, partly; but he really ought to know, in case he still thinks of marrying you."