Ellice gave an involuntary shudder, and made a gesture as if to shut out what he had said from her ears. The emotion brought the blood surging and tingling back to her face. She turned her head aside and remained for some time with her gaze fixed upon the wall. Geoffrey ventured to make no sign, for he had tried his resolution to the uttermost, and knew too well where another struggle would leave him. Yet, at heart, perhaps, he grudged himself a victory so much less sweet than defeat would have been. At that moment Ellice was for him the only woman in the world. He was ready to fall at her feet. He felt as if all the outrage had been on his side and all the suffering on hers. At last she got up, outwardly quiet, save for the deep flush in her cheeks and the sparkle in her eyes, which travelled over Geoffrey occasionally as she spoke, but never rested steadily upon him. 'You have made me feel ashamed of myself,' she said. 'I think you should have told me this news at first. No--I take that back. I broke in upon you uninvited and--but it was because I thought--I did not think----You must believe that I am not so unwomanly as to have done it if I had known.' She paused, buttoning and unbuttoning her glove mechanically, her lips moving silently. Finally she looked up and said in a fresher tone: 'May I ask you one favour?' Geoffrey moved his head in silent assent. 'I shall go away--I shall go back to-morrow evening,' she went on. 'You see I am wise enough to take your advice now. But I want very much to see--this lady before I go. You need not be afraid; I should say nothing that could pain her; but you can understand why I should like to see her. I suppose I may tell you--for you must know it already--that she is the only woman in the world whom I can feel an interest in seeing. When I picture you to myself hereafter, I want to be able to picture her too. Will you bring her to see me to-morrow, before I go? Tell her that I am an old--acquaintance of yours; a married woman, who feels an interest in what concerns your happiness. Will you come with her?' 'Oh, Ellice,' said he, in a broken voice, 'I will come with her--or, if you say so, I will come without her!' She seemed to hesitate for an instant, drawing in her breath, and sending him one swift and penetrating glance. But the next instant she answered quite composedly, and as if she had not understood the significance of his avowal. 'Oh, no, come with her; I should like to see her! Thank you; now I will go; good-bye till to-morrow!' And before he could take her hand in farewell, or find words to speak, she had retreated to the door, opened it, and passed out.