"I don't believe it. He can get money somehow. He always could. The courts can force him to. I shall tell my lawyer to go ahead with the suit." "If you would only delay--a week--" "Impossible." Miss Rose spoke with haughty languor. "I begin rehearsals in New York in a week. No, I shall start suit to-day. You may tell Lord Harrowby so." Poor Jephson! Minot had a mental picture of the little bald man writing at that very moment a terribly large check for the Dowager Duchess of Tremayne--paying for the rain that had fallen in torrents. He must at least hold this woman off until Jephson answered his cable. "Miss Rose," he pleaded, "grant us one favor. Do not make public your suit against Harrowby until I have seen you again--say, at four o'clock this afternoon." Coldly she shook her head. "But you have already waited five years. Surely you can wait another five hours--as a very great favor to me." "I should like to--since you put it that way--but it's impossible. I'm sorry." The great beauty and business woman leaned closer. "Mr. Minot, you can hardly realize what Allan's unkindness cost me--in bitter tears. I loved him--once. And--I believe he loved me." "There can not be any question about that." "Ah--flattery--" "No--spoken from the heart." "Really!" "My dear lady--I should like to be your press agent. I could write the most gorgeous things about you--and no one could say I lied." "You men are so nice," she gurgled, "when you want to be." Ah, yes, Gabrielle Rose had always found them so, and had yet to meet one not worth her while to capture. She turned the baby stare full on Minot. Even to a beauty of the theater he was an ingratiating picture. She rose and strolled to a piano in one corner of the room. Minot followed. "When Harrowby first met me," she said, her fingers on the keys, "I was singing _Just a Little_. My first dear song--ah, Mr. Minot, I was happy then." In another minute she began to sing--softly--a plaintive little love-song, and in spite of himself Minot felt his heart beat faster. "How it brings back the old days," she whispered. "The lights, and the friendly faces--Harrowby in the stalls. And the little suppers after the show--" She leaned forward and sang at Minot as she had sung at Harrowby five years before: "You could love me just a little--if you tried-- You could feel your heart go pit-a-pat inside--" Really, she had a way with her! "Dear, it's easy if you try; Cross your heart and hope to die-- Don't you love me just a little--now?" That baby stare in all its pathos, all its appealing helplessness, was focused full on Minot. He gripped the arms of his chair. Gabrielle Rose saw. Had she made another captive? So it seemed. She felt very kindly toward the world. "Promise." Minot leaned over. His voice was hoarse. "You'll meet me here at four. Quite aside from my errand--quite aside from everything--I want to see you again."