“I was going out that night to dine in a restaurant in Soho with some friends,” she said, trying to speak very naturally. “I wanted some fresh air, so I walked.” “Why not? I beg you to forgive me for my rudeness. I feel very ashamed of it now. I have learnt in all these days to respect you very much.” His voice sounded so earnest, so sincere, that she felt suddenly a sense of relief. After all, he had always treated her with respect. He had never been impertinent, or even really audacious, and yet he had always known that she had wanted to meet him, that she had meant to meet him! He had never taken advantage of that knowledge. If he were really what Dick Garstin said he was, surely he would have acted differently. “Do you really respect me?” she said. “Yes. Have I not shown it in all these days? Have I ever done anything a lady could object to?” “No.” Her hand still lay in his, and his touch had aroused in her that strange and intense desire to belong to him which seemed a desire entirely of the body, something with which the mind had little or nothing to do. “Are you evil?” her eyes were asking him. And his eyes, looking straight down into hers, seemed steadily and simply to deny it. “Do you believe the lie of Dick Garstin?” they said to her. And she no longer knew whether she believed it or not. He drew a little nearer to her. “I respect you--yes,” he said. “But that is not all. I have another feeling for you. I have had it ever since I first saw you that night, when I was standing by the door in the Cafe Royal and you looked at me.” “But--but you--” “Yes?” Her lips trembled. Again jealousy seized her. “I saw you that night in Conduit Street,” she said. “You thought I didn’t, but I did.” He still looked perfectly calm and untroubled. “You were dining with Dick Garstin. May I not dine with someone?” “Then why did you leave the restaurant?” “I did not want you to see me.” “Ah!” “I thought you might not understand.” “I do understand. I understand perfectly!” She drew her hand sharply away from his. “Are you angry with me?” “Angry? No! What does it matter to me?” “I am a man. I live alone. My life is lonely. Must I give up everything before I know that some day I shall have the only thing I really wish? You know men. You know how we are. I do not defend. I only say that I am not better than the other men. I want to be happy. If that is not for me, then I want to make the time pass. I do not pretend. Men generally pretend very much to beautiful girls. But you would not believe such nonsense.” “Then why didn’t you stay in the restaurant?” “Because I thought to do that would be like an insult for you. Such girls as that--mud--they must not come into your life even by chance, even for a few minutes. No man wishes to show himself with mud to a lady he respects. I tell you just the truth.” “Have you--have you seen her again?”