‘Thank you, thank you. Whatever else you say, for that one word I thank you earnestly. But oh, what more can I say to you? I love you; I have always loved you. I shall always love you in future. Take me or reject me, I shall always love you. And yet, how can I ask you? But in England—in England, Miss Dupuy, the barrier would be less absolute.—Yes, yes; I know how hopeless it is: but this once—this once only! I _must_ ask you! Oh, for pity’s sake, in England—far away from it all—in London—where nobody thinks of these things! Why, I know a Hindu barrister—— But there! it’s not a matter for reasoning; it lies between heart and heart! Oh, Miss Dupuy, tell me—tell me, tell me, is there—is there any chance for me?’ Nora’s heart relented within her. ‘Dr Whitaker,’ she said slowly and remorsefully, ‘you can’t tell how much I feel for you. I can see at once what a dreadful position you are placed in. I can see, of course, how impossible it is for you ever to think of marrying any—any lady of your own colour—at least as they are brought up here in Trinidad. I can see that you could only fall in love with—with a white lady, a person fitted by education and manners to be a companion to you. I know how clever you are, and I think I can see how good you are too. I know how far all your tastes and ideas are above those of the people you must mix with here, or, for that matter, above Tom Dupuy’s—or my own either. I see it all; I know it all. And indeed, I like you—I admire you, and I like you. I don’t want you to think me unkind and unappreciative.—Dr Whitaker, I feel truly flattered that you should speak so to me this evening—but’—— And she hesitated. The young mulatto felt that that ‘but’ was the very deathblow to his last faint hope and aspiration. ‘But—— Well, you know these things are something more than a mere matter of liking and admiring. Let us still be friends, Dr Whitaker—let us still be friends.—And there’s the band striking up the next waltz. Will you kindly take me back to the ballroom? I—I am engaged to dance it with Captain Castello.’ ‘One second, Miss Dupuy—for God’s sake, one second! Is that final? Is that irrevocable?’ ‘Final, Dr Whitaker—quite final. I like you; I admire you; but I can never, never—never accept you!’ The mulatto uttered a little low sharp piercing cry. ‘Ah!’ he exclaimed in an accent of terrible despair, ‘then it is all over—all, all over!’ Next instant he had drawn himself together with an effort again, and offering Nora his arm with constrained calmness, he began to lead her back towards the crowded ballroom. As he neared the steps, he paused once more for a second, and almost whispered in her ear in a hollow voice: ‘Thank you, thank you for ever for at least your sympathy!’ MAN-LIKE APES—AND MAN.