The girl was in a restless mood and presently she sprang up, walked to the window, opened the little square of shutter and looked out into the darkening street. Then she crossed to her little desk at one side of the fireplace. She sat down and wrote for a while, then, as suddenly, she dropped her pen and got up again. “You are going to ask another question,” warned the Colonel. “Only one,” she pleaded. “Well, fire away,” he grumbled ungraciously. “What would induce you to forsake your career and apply your undoubted talents, as the assize judge said to poor dear Mr. Mulberry, to better purpose?” “Wealth,” said the Colonel promptly,--“enough stuff put aside to bring me in a nice little income. And here again, let me say, Kate, that you and I could well afford to knock off--” She interrupted him. “That is a purely material inducement,” she said. “What other--spiritual or ethical?” “Oh, rot!” he snapped. “Why do you ask these fool questions?” “Because I am wondering,” she said, “what influence could be brought to bear upon me. The opinion of my fellow creatures? No, I don’t care what they think. I know they are mostly fools and so why should they influence me? Wealth? No, if I were rich as Crœsus I should go on, for the sport of it. Punishment? No, I should use my spare time in correcting the faults in me which had resulted in my detection. I am afraid I am incorrigible, uncle, for there is something about this life which appeals to me no end--and now I am going to dress,” she said, making for the door. “Going out?” asked the Colonel in surprise. She nodded. “But Gregori--” “Gregori can wait,” said Kate, “and Gregori bores me. He is always trying to make love.” “Is that remarkable?” suggested the Colonel archly. “It is remarkably annoying,” said the girl. She flung open the door and stepped back. Gregori, politest of cavaliers, stood deferentially in the entrance and she surveyed him coolly. “Were you listening?” she asked. “Señorita!” he said, shocked. She laughed and passed out. Gregori watched her as she mounted the stairs till she turned out of sight, then he closed the door and came across to the Colonel. “Our little friend is hard on me,” he said with no hint of malice in his voice. “She is a queer girl, Gregori,” replied the Colonel, shaking his head. “She is a queer girl,” repeated Gregori; “queer indeed, yes.” He stroked his little black moustache. “She doesn’t like me.” “Who does she like?” snapped the older man. “You, I trust,” smiled the Spaniard. The Colonel tossed his head despairingly. “I hardly know,” he said. “What a reversal of positions!” The Spaniard took the seat the girl had vacated. “I know what you are thinking about,” he nodded; “a few years ago she was the obedient child absorbing our code--to-day she is the tyrannical mistress of the situation.” He deftly unrolled and rolled a Spanish cigarette, licked its edges and fumbled for a match in his waistcoat pocket.