“To be loved by _you_!” she said, “is too wonderful for me!” “Once,” he reminded her with malice, “you told me you were tired of me----” Her shocked face checked him. “I was only joking, Eris----” “I _did_ say it! And I was already in love with you when I said it. God and you punished me instantly. But I couldn’t ever bear to have you two do it again----” * * * * * Somebody had sent her some cordials,--mint, curaçoa,--that sort. She was unaccustomed--had no taste for such things. But she was happy to show him her sideboard after dinner. “It’s all for you. You like such things, don’t you? Well, then, I’m going to keep them for you.... Rosalind goes schmoozing about when she comes here. Other girls, also. But I’ve been unutterably mean--and I’ve hoarded it for you.” “Then you _did_ expect me to call you up?” he asked, laughingly. “Oh, Lord, I didn’t know. If you hadn’t called me I couldn’t have stood it much longer.” “Would you have called me?” “Of course.... Or died.” “Why didn’t you call me?” “I was afraid.... And I wasn’t quite dead, yet----” “Of what were you afraid?” “I knew you must be very bored with me.... And there was something else.... It scared me.... It still exists.” “Tell me, Eris.” “Yes; I’ll have to tell you, now.” They rose from the table and she took his arm.... “But you _must_ love me, Barry!--I’ve got to be loved by you now.” In the lamp-lit sitting room he drew her to him: “How could I help loving you, Eris?” “I don’t want you to help it.” “I couldn’t, anyway. So you needn’t fear to tell me anything you please.” “No.... I’ve got to tell you, whether it scares me or not.... I think I’d rather wait until just before you go.” She curled up on the sofa close to him, one hand clasping her ankles, the other against his shoulder. “Also, I want to explain to you,” she said, “that I didn’t know Mrs. Grandcourt was your aunt until _after_ I’d fallen in love with you.” “I don’t follow the continuity----” “I mean I’m not socially ambitious.” He was still mystified. “I didn’t know you were so very important socially,” she explained. “I’m not. My aunt thinks she is, but really she isn’t any more. Life passed her on the road at eighty with every cylinder hitting. I never travelled that highway. But my poor aunt still trundles along it in an ancient victoria. Even the flivvers cover her old-mine diamonds with plebeian joy-dust----” Eris, helpless with laughter, clung to his shoulder. “I don’t wish to laugh,” she protested. “Your aunt is nice to me.... Though rather horrid to Betsy.... It seems she knew my grandmother. She says she told you that.” “When did she admit to you that my relationship disgraced her?” “Yesterday.” “Oh, so you continue to see her in town?” “I lunched with her.” “In her private morgue?” “It _is_ gloomy.” “I suppose, while she was about it, she handed you a lurid line or two regarding me.”