Ten minutes later Mr. Morton entered, looking as sprucely young as fifty can look, smiling admiration in the gray eyes that were more accustomed to a gaze of autocratic command. Mary had previously placed herself at the table so that she could see into the larger room without being seen, and during the preliminaries of their conversation her main faculties were surreptitiously directed beyond the hangings. Presently she saw Loveman enter the larger room. Instinctively she knew Loveman had followed Mr. Morton here, to keep close watch over what he did and what might develop. After her scene that morning with Loveman, she knew he would strike the instant he saw she was failing, or thought she was about to fail. Loveman and Bradley--her seemingly simple plan certainly was growing complicated! And then a little later she saw Clifford enter. Her heart skipped a few beats: so, then, he was watching her, as she had expected! What might he intend doing?... Well, whatever it might be, she would go straight ahead! Presently she had to give more heed to Morton, for he was touching upon things that were vitally personal. “Let me again applaud the discretion you showed in your affair with Jack, Mrs. Gardner,” he was saying. “And again let me compliment you on your sensible attitude when you saw the affair had to be broken off.” “Thank you.” “Pardon my referring to the sordid money side of things,” he went on. “I was prepared to meet whatever you had in mind--but Mr. Clifford has reported to me that you would accept no settlement. I do not quite understand.” “I did not enter into the affair with Jack expecting to be bought off,” she replied. He looked at her keenly, but said no more on the subject. “There is one thing that has surprised me a bit, though, in so discreet a woman as you are, Mrs. Gardner: that is, your coming to the very hotel at which Miss Jones is staying.” “It is the hotel at which I usually stop.” “I was merely thinking that your being under the same roof might lead to some unexpected happening that would let Miss Jones learn--you understand. But you are very sensible and careful.” He leaned over the little table. “And now let’s talk about you and me,” he said softly. “What is your answer?” “My answer?” she evaded. “To my suggestion that we explore a more amiable climate--together.” Her back was against the wall. “I’d rather not have to answer.” “But your mind is made up?” She hesitated. “Yes,” she admitted. “But I’d rather not speak--not just now.” “Why not?” “There may develop complications; complications which I can’t now explain.” “But at least,” he urged, “can’t you give me a hint of what your answer will be, if complications do not interfere?”