Mendel was silent. He could do nothing. There was nothing to be said. Jessie had consoled him, comforted him, but she had only made his suffering worse. By the side of Morrison she simply did not exist, and it had been a lie to pretend that she did. That lie must be cut out. "I never thought you only wanted me for that," she repeated, and began to move slowly down the stairs. At the bend she stopped and looked up at him, gave a little muffled cry, and moved slowly down into the dim lobby of the house. Mendel gripped the banisters with both hands and shook them until they cracked. "How horrible!" he muttered to himself; "how horrible!" Upstairs, Clowes was boiling with rage. She lost all interest in her young man, and as soon as Mendel had returned to the room she raced downstairs, almost sobbing, and saying to herself:-- "That settles you, Master Kühler! That settles you!" She darted across to Morrison, who had taken refuge in a corner, seized her by the hand and whispered:-- "Greta! Greta! I've just heard the most frightful thing. I couldn't help overhearing it and I ought not to tell anybody, but you ought to know. Kühler and Petrie! It must have been going on for months. He broke with her in the most cold-blooded way. It was heart-rending. I can't bear it. Oh! these men, these men!" Morrison clenched her fists and her eyes blazed. "Don't tell me any more!" she said. "Don't tell me any more!" "I want to go home," whispered Clowes. "It is a dreadful party. That awful green woman spoils everything. It is like a nightmare to me now. "It wouldn't be fair to go without telling him," said Morrison. "It wouldn't be fair." "But you can't think of him after that," protested Clowes. "Oh! good gracious! There's Calthrop coming in. It is getting worse and worse." Calthrop swung into the room with his magnificent stride. As usual, his entrance created a dramatic sensation. Logan, who had always decried his work, leaped to meet him and Mendel stood shyly waiting for his nod. . . . Whom would the great man speak to? That was the question. . . . He fixed his eyes on Oliver and strode up to her. "You're the best-looking woman in the room," he said. "Do you like cinemas?" "I adore them," said Oliver, with an excited giggle. "Now, now's the chance!" whispered Clowes. "We can slip away now, before they begin drinking." "I must tell him," replied Morrison, and, summoning up all her courage, she went up to Mendel and asked if she could speak to him. He went out with her, trembling in every limb. "I am going," she said. "I have just heard something. Clowes overheard you and Jessie Petrie. She ought not to have told me. I don't know what I feel about it. Very wretched, chiefly. Please don't try to see me." "I have told you what I am again and again," he said. "Yes. You are very honest, but it is hard for a girl to imagine these things. Please, please see how hard it is and let me be."