Nowhere in this strange country of flowers and sweet odors, of singing birds and delicate breezes, could he hope to escape from the old thrall. The dreary machinery of life seemed no longer possible to him. Milly and her unconquerable vulgarity, his narrowing career, even his work, mocked him with their emptiness. He caught the evening express with a moment to spare, flung himself, breathless, among the cushions of an empty carriage just as the train glided from the station. Without any clear purpose in his mind, he obeyed an impulse which seemed irresistible. He must go to her. At St. Pancras he remembered for a moment that he was wearing his ordinary homespun clothes, disordered, too, with his long walk and race for the train. Nevertheless, he did not hesitate. He called for a hansom, and drove to her house. The servant who admitted him looked him over with surprise, but believed that Lady Malingcourt was within. She was even then dressing for the opera. Strone was shown into her study--and waited. It was nearly half an hour before she came to him, and whatever feelings his sudden arrival had excited she had had time to conceal them. She came to him buttoning her gloves, and followed by her maid carrying her opera cloak. The latter withdrew discreetly. Strone rose up--a strange figure enough, with his wind-tossed hair and burning eyes. "You?" she exclaimed, with raised eyebrows. "How wonderful!" The sight of her, the sound of her voice, were fuel to his smoldering passion. His heart was hot with the love of her. "Is it true?" he asked fiercely. "I have seen your brother. He says that you are going to marry Lord Sydenham." She looked at him in faint surprise. "And why on earth should I not marry Lord Sydenham?" she asked. It was like a sudden chill. She was angry, then, or she did not care. Yet there had been times when she had looked at him indifferently. He made an effort at repression. "There is no reason why you should not," he admitted. "There is no reason why you should not tell me--if it be true. For God's sake, tell me!" "It is perfectly true," she answered. "Lord Sydenham is nothing to you," he cried. "Well, he soon will be--my husband." "You do not care for him." "An excellent reason to marry him, then. I shall have no disenchantment to fear." "Oh, this is mockery!" he cried. "You can juggle with words, I know. I am no match for you at that. Don't!" "Don't what?" "Marry Lord Sydenham." She nodded her head thoughtfully. "On certain conditions," she answered, "I will not." "What are they?" he asked hoarsely. "You accept the place in the government which was offered to you and reënter political life." "Well?" "You never ask more of my friendship than I am willing to give." "Well?" "You leave your wife altogether." He started and shook his head slowly. "You don't understand. Milly has--a weakness. Even now I have to be always watching."