“Academic precision and the respectable excellencies of-the-usual;--you have put away childish things and become a man.” “Where did you hear that?” he said bluntly. “I heard it when I said it. You know, Mr. Drene, I am not wholly uneducated, although your amiable question insinuates as much.” “I’m not unamiable. Only I didn’t suppose--” “Oh, you never have supposed anything concerning me. So why are you surprised when I express myself with fragmentary intelligence?” “I’m sorry--” “Listen to me. I’m not afraid of you any more. I’ve been afraid for two years. Now, I’m not. Your study is masterly. I know it. You know it. You didn’t know I knew it; you didn’t know I knew anything. And you didn’t care.” She sat down on the sofa, facing him with a breathless smile. “You don’t care what I think, what I am, what interests I may have, what intellect, what of human desire, hope, fear, ambition animates me; do you? You don’t care whether I am ignorant or educated, bad or good, ill or well--as long as it does not affect my posing for you; whether I am happy or unhappy, whether I--” “For Heaven’s sake--” “But you don’t care!... Do you?” He was silent; he stood looking at her in a stupid sort of way. After a moment or two she rose, picked up her hat, went to the glass and pinned it on, then strolled slowly back, drawing on her gloves. “It’s five o’clock, you know, Drene.” “Yes, certainly.” “Do you want me to-morrow?” “Yes. Yes, of course.” “You are not offended?” He did not answer. She came up to him and repeated the question in a childishly anxious voice that was a trifle too humble. And looking down into her eyes he saw a gleam of pure mischief in them. “You little villain!” he said; and caught her wrists. “A lot you care whether I am offended!” She looked away from him, turning her profile. Her expression was inscrutable. After a silence he dropped her wrists with a vague laugh. “You should have let me alone,” he said. “‘The woman tempted me,’” she repeated, still looking away from him. He said nothing. “Good night,” she nodded, and turned toward the door. He went with her, falling into step beside her. One arm slipped around her waist as they entered the hallway. They walked slowly to the door. He unlatched it, hesitated; she moved one foot forward, and he took a step at the same time which brought her across his path so closely that contact was unavoidable. And he kissed her. “Oh,” she said. “So you are human after all! I often wondered.” She looked up, trying to laugh, but could not seem to take it as coolly as she might have wished to. “Not that a kiss is very important in these days,” she continued, “yet it might interest you to hear that a friend of yours rather fancies me. He wouldn’t like you to do it. But--” She lifted her blue eyes with faint malice--“What is a woman between friends?” “Who is he?” “Jack Graylock.” Drene remained motionless. “I haven’t encouraged him,” she said. “Perhaps that is why.”