“I'm glad you have so good an opinion of yourself, Mr. Chance,” she replied. “I was vexed with you at first, but am not so now. To watch the changes of your chameleon mind, not always successful in getting the right colour at the right moment, is just as good as a play. If you really mean to come again and again I shall not object--it will amuse me. Only do not come at two o'clock in the morning; it might compromise me, and, unconventional as I am, I should not forgive you a second time. But honestly, Mr. Chance, I don't believe you will come again. You know now that I know you, and you are too wise to waste your energies on me. I hope you will not give up visiting me--in the daytime. We admire each other, and I have always had a friendly feeling for you. That is a real feeling--not an artificial one like the love you spoke of.” He rose to go. “Time will show whether it is an artificial feeling or not,” he said; and after bidding good-night and hearing the door close after him, he walked away towards Westbourne Grove. He had gone from her presence with a smile on his lips, but in the street it quickly vanished from his face, and breaking into a rapid walk and clenching his fists, he exclaimed, between his set teeth, “Curse the jade!” It was not a sufficient relief to his feelings, and yet he seemed unable to think of any other expression more suitable to the occasion, for after going a little further, he repeated, “Curse the jade!” Then he walked on slower and slower, and finally stopped, and turning towards Dawson Place, he repeated for the third time, “Curse the jade!” CHAPTER VII Fan saw no more company after that evening, for which she was not sorry; but that had been a red-letter day to her--not soon, perhaps never, to be forgotten.