It had begun in the days when Audrey had stood in the way of Ted's career; it had gone on afterwards, when it was to be feared that she had done him still more grievous harm; and it had ended in separating Katherine from Vincent, and even from his memory. Rather, that duel had neither beginning nor end. There was something foregone and inevitable about it, something that had its roots deep down in their opposite natures. It had to be. It had been from the hour when she first met Audrey until now, when the two women were again thrown together in a detestable mockery of friendship, forced into each other's arms, lying by each other's side. Audrey had been quiet for some time, and Katherine was nervously wondering when she would begin. "Katherine," she said at last, "I want you to come back with me to Chelsea to-day." The fact was, Miss Craven was in Devonshire, and Audrey was still afraid to be in the house by herself. "I couldn't, possibly. I can't leave Ted." "That doesn't matter. Ted can come too." What _was_ Audrey's mind like? Had it no memory? "I think not, Audrey." Audrey said no more. She gave the last touches to her hair, put on her black dress, and turned herself slowly round before the looking-glass. She was satisfied with the result. It was her last day in Devon Street, so the Havilands had to be nice to her. Ted went out soon after breakfast; he was incapable of any sustained effort. Audrey did not know it, but the boy hated the house now that she was in it. Katherine had dreaded being left alone with her that morning. She knew that last words would come. And they came. They were sitting together by the studio fire, talking about indifferent subjects, when suddenly Audrey left her seat and knelt down by Katherine's knees in at attitude of confession. "Katherine," she began, and her grey eyes filled with tears, "before I go, I want to tell you something----" "What is it?" "I want you to know that I really loved Vincent all the time." She waited to see the effect of her words, but Katherine set her teeth firmly and said nothing. Audrey went on, still kneeling. "I don't know what made me get engaged to Ted,--I liked him, you know, dear boy, but--I think it was because Vincent would not understand me; and he wanted to hurry things so. And you see I didn't know then how much I loved him. Then afterwards----" She stopped; she had come to the difficult part of her confession. "Well?" "Then, you see, I knew Mr. Wyndham, and he----" Another pause. "What did Mr. Wyndham do?" It was better that she should talk about Mr. Wyndham than about Vincent. "I don't know what he did, but he made me mad; he made me think I cared for him. He was so clever. You know I always adored clever people; and, well--nobody could call poor Vincent clever, _could_ they?" In spite of herself, Katherine's lip curled with scorn. But Audrey was too much absorbed in her confession to see it.