They walked back to the square living-room. He said, teasingly: "Do you remember, the first time I saw you after those four years,--that first evening when I came in to surprise you and found you sitting by the radiator--in your nightie, Athalie?" "Yes," she said, laughing and blushing as she always did when he tormented her with that souvenir. "And I said that you ought to have an open fire. And a cat. Didn't I?" "Yes." "There's your fire, Athalie;" he drew a match from his tiny flat gold case, struck it, and lighted the nest of pine shavings under the logs;--"and Michael has the cat when you want it." He drew a big soft arm-chair to the mounting blaze. Athalie stood motionless, staring at the flames, then with a sudden, nervous gesture she sank down on the arm-chair and covered her face with her gloved hands. He stood waiting, happy and excited, and finally he went over and touched her; and the girl caught his hand convulsively in both of hers and looked up at him with wet eyes. "How can I do this, Clive? How _can_ I?" she whispered. "Any brother would do as much for his sister--" "Oh, Clive! You are different! You are _more_ than that. You know you are. How can I take all this? Will you tell me? How can I live here--this way--" "Your sisters will be here. You saw their room just now--" "But what can I _tell_ them? How can I explain? They know we cannot afford such luxury as this?" "Tell them the rent is the same." "They won't believe it. They couldn't. They don't understand even now how it is with you and me--that you are so dear and generous and kind just because you are my friend--and no more than my friend.... Not that they really believe--anything--unpleasant--of _me_--but--but--" "What do you care--as long as it isn't so?" he said, coolly. "I don't care. Except that it weakens my authority over them.... Catharine is very impulsive, and she dearly loves a good time--and she is becoming sullen with me when I try to advise her or curb her.... And it's so with Doris, too.... I'd like to keep my influence.... But if they ever really began to believe that between you and me there was--more--than friendship, I--I don't know what they might feel free to think--or do--" "They're older than you." "Yes. But I seem to have the authority,--or I did have." They looked into the leaping flames; he threw open his fur coat and seated himself on the padded arm of her chair. "All I know is," he said, "that it gives me the deepest and most enduring happiness to do things for you. When the architect planned this house I had him design a place for you. Ultimately all the row of old houses are to be torn down and replaced by modern apartments with moderate rentals. So you will have to move anyway sooner or later. Why not come here _now_?" Half unconsciously she had rested her cheek against the fur lining of his coat where it fell against his arm. He looked down at her, touched her hair--a thing he had never thought of doing before.