Wolff made no answer to her question. He was sufficiently calm to feel with its full poignancy how fleeting and unstable their newly won happiness had been. The barrier was raised again—the more formidable because it had been once so easily overcome. Yet, with the tenacity of despair he clung to the appearance of things, and kept his teeth tight-clenched upon an angry, bitter retort. He was spared all further temptation. The door-bell rang, and he turned to Nora with a quiet question as though nothing had happened. "Is that Miles, or is he at home?" "It is Miles, probably. He has been out all the afternoon." She, too, had recovered her self-possession and was grateful to him for having ignored her outburst. Nevertheless she knew that he would not forget, any more than she would be able to do. "Where has he been, do you know?" "I am not sure. He found it very dull here, and went out with some English friends he has picked up. Is there any harm in that?" Again the same note of sneering defiance! Wolff kept his face steadily averted. "Not so far. But I do not like his English friends." "I suppose not," she retorted. "Everybody here hates us." "Us——?" He turned at last and looked at her. "——the English, I mean," she stammered. He had no opportunity to reply. The door opened, and their little maid-of-all-work entered, bearing a card. "A gentleman to see the _gnädige Frau_," she said. "Shall I show him in?" Nora took the card. She looked at it a long time. Even in the half-darkness her pallor was so intense that it caught Wolff’s attention. He saw her stretch out her hand blindly as though seeking support. "What is it? What is the matter?" he asked. She lifted her eyes to his, staringly, stupidly. He felt that she hardly saw him. "Nothing—it is an old friend—from England." The sound of her own voice seemed to bring her to her senses. She handed him the card, and her manner from stunned bewilderment changed to something that was intensely defiant. There was a moment’s silence. Then Arnim turned to the waiting servant. "Show him in here," he ordered. "Wolff—how do you know I wish to see him?" "An old friend—who has come so far to see you? You surely cannot do otherwise. Besides, why should you not want to see him?" He looked at her in steady surprise, so that the suspicion which for one moment had flashed up in her mind died down as quickly as it had come. _He did not know—he could not know_. But the consciousness of coming disaster weighed upon her like a crushing burden. "There is no reason. Only I thought you might not wish it." "Your friends are my friends," he answered gravely. And then the door opened a second time, and Robert Arnold stood on the threshold. *CHAPTER IX* *ARNOLD RECEIVES HIS EXPLANATION*