“I'd--I'd rather not, Yvonne,” he said, starting guiltily. “There's no use worrying her with the thing now. As a matter of fact, I'd prefer that she--well, somehow I don't like the idea of explaining matters to her.” “There's nothing to explain.” He looked away. He realised that he could not explain the thing even to himself. “Well, then, I don't want her to know that I thought of leaving,” he supplemented. “She wouldn't understand.” “No?” “She's so open and above-board about everything,” he explained nervously. “It has seemed to me of late, Frederic, that you and Lydia are not quite so--what shall I say?--so enamoured of each other. What has happened?” she inquired so innocently, so naïvely, that he looked at her in astonishment. She was watching him narrowly. “I am sure you fairly live at her house. You are there nearly every day, and yet--well, I can feel rather than see the change in both of you. I hope------” “I've been behaving like an infernal sneak, Yvonne!” cried he, conscience-stricken. “She's the finest, noblest girl in all this world, and I've been treating her shamefully.” “Dear me! In what way, may I inquire?” “Why, we used to--oh, but why go into all that? It would only amuse you. You'd laugh at us for silly fools. But I can't help saying this much: she doesn't deserve to be treated as I'm treating her now, Yvonne. It's hurting her dreadfully, and----” “What have you been doing that she should be so dreadfully afflicted?” she cried ironically. “I've been neglecting her, ignoring her, humiliating her, if you will force me to say it,” he said firmly. “Good Lord, if anyone had told me three months ago that I'd ever be guilty of giving Lydia an instant's pain, I'd--I'd------” “You would do what?” “Don't laugh at me, Yvonne,” he cried miserably. She became serious at once. “Do you still love her?” “Yes! Yes!” he shouted, as if there was some necessity for convincing himself as well as his listener. “And she loves you?” “I--I--certainly! At least I think she does,” he floundered. His forehead was moist and cold. “Then why this sudden misgiving, this feeling of doubt, this self-abasement?” “I don't understand it myself,” he said rather bleakly. “I--I give you my word, I don't know what has come over me. I'm not as I used to be. I'm------” She laughed softly. “I'm afraid you are seeing too much of your poor stepmother,” she said. His eyes narrowed. “You've made me over, that's true. You've made all of us over--the house as well. I am not happy unless I am with you. It used to make me happy to be with Lydia--and we were always together. But I--I don't care now--at least, I am not unhappy when we are apart. You've done it, Yvonne. You've made life worth living. You've made me see everything differently. You------” She stood up, facing him. She appeared to be frightened. “Are you trying to tell me that you are in love with me?” she demanded, and there was no longer mockery or raillery in her voice.