Meeting Rupert Waterville the next day, as he often did, at the Saint George’s Club, which offers a much-appreciated hospitality to secretaries of legation and to the natives of the countries they assist in representing, Littlemore let him know that his prophecy had been fulfilled and that Lady Demesne had been making proposals for an interview. “My sister read me a desperate letter from her.” Our young man was all critical attention again. “‘Desperate’?” “The letter of a woman so scared that she’ll do anything. I may be a great brute, but her scare amuses me.” “You’re in the position of Olivier de Jalin in _Le Demi-Monde_,” Waterville remarked. “In _Le Demi-Monde_?” Littlemore was not quick at catching literary allusions. “Don’t you remember the play we saw in Paris? Or like Don Fabrice in _L’Aventurière_. A bad woman tries to marry an honourable man, who doesn’t know how bad she is, and they who do know step in and push her back.” “Yes, it comes to me. There was a good deal of lying,” Littlemore recalled, “all round.” “They prevented the marriage, however—which is the great thing.” “The great thing if your heart’s set! One of the active parties was the intimate friend of the man in love, the other was his son. Demesne’s nothing at all to me.” “He’s a very good fellow,” said Waterville. “Then go and talk to him.” “Play the part of Olivier de Jalin? Oh I can’t. I’m not Olivier. But I think I do wish he’d corner me of himself. Mrs. Headway oughtn’t really to be allowed to pass.” “I wish to heaven they’d let me alone,” Littlemore murmured ruefully and staring a while out of the window. “Do you still hold to that theory you propounded in Paris? Are you willing to commit perjury?” Waterville asked. “Assuredly I can refuse to answer questions—even that one.” “As I told you before, that will amount to a condemnation.” Longmore frowningly debated. “It may amount to what it pleases. I guess I’ll go back to Paris.” “That will be the same as not answering. But it’s quite the best thing you can do. I’ve really been thinking it out,” Waterville continued, “and I don’t hold that from the point of view of social good faith she’s an article we ought to contribute—!” He looked at the matter clearly now from a great elevation; his tone, the expression of his face, betrayed this lofty flight; the effect of which, as he glanced down at his didactic young friend, Littlemore found peculiarly irritating. He shifted about. “No, after all, hanged if they shall drive me away!” he exclaimed abruptly; and he walked off while his companion wondered. X The morning after this the elder man received a note from Mrs. Headway—a short and simple note, consisting merely of the words: “I shall be at home this afternoon; will you come and see me at five? I’ve something particular to say to you.” He sent no answer to the question, but went to the little house in Chesterfield Street at the hour its mistress had proposed.