"I mean, it was all over so quickly that I took it to heart like a fool, and became moping and low. I sent for Bella then, and got her to come and see me constantly in the evening, when our work for the day was over; and I began again to talk to her about you, not telling her anything about what had happened, but talking just as I used in the old days, only a little more passionately perhaps; for my usual quiet nature was aroused at the thought of the way in which you had treated me, and at the idea of what might have been--what might be yet, I suppose I thought to myself; for one night I told Bella all about my coming to you in South Molton Street, the declaration that I made, and the way in which you received it. Then I told her of that horrible interview, when we met in the street, and when you treated me as though I had been a servant. She was naturally angry about this, and talked the usual stuff which people do in such cases, advising me not to think of you any more; that you could not appreciate my worth; that there were plenty of other women who--you know the style of condolence on such occasions. I seemed to agree with her; and I suppose I actually did so for some little time; but then the what-might-be feeling took possession of me, and I began idiotically to buoy myself up with a hope that you might have spoken hurriedly and without thought, that I might have been proud and hasty; and, in fact, that there might yet be a chance of future happiness for me. Bella must have discovered this almost as soon as I felt it; for she seemed to discourage my questions about you, and my evident inclination to forget what had passed, and to endeavour to renew my acquaintance with you. She was very quiet and kind at first--she was kind throughout, I suppose I ought to say; but when she found that my feverish longing to see you again was coming to a height, that I was bent upon imploring you to reconsider your determination, she spoke openly to me, and told me what I would sooner have died than have heard." Daisy looked up quickly and angrily at him. "And what," she said scornfully, "may this wonderful communication have been?" "I suppose you do not know Bella's share in all that has taken place, or you would not ask the question," said John. "I am not aware that Bella Merton has any share in anything that concerns me," said Daisy. "It is useless speaking any further in riddles. You promised you would speak out; hitherto you have done so, and you must continue to the end." "I will," said John Merton; "I came to do it, and I will carry it through at whatever pain it may be for me to speak, for you to hear. My sister Bella, then, has informed me that a man--one of those whom you call gentlemen, but from whom I withhold the name--has ventured to make dishonourable proposals to you; in plain terms, to ask you to live with him as his mistress." "Mr. Merton!" cried Daisy, in a wild access of rage, "how dare----"