"My dear Mr. Waddington--my dear friend--" The dark eyes brightened. She saw a clear prospect of the five hundred. Compared with what old Waddy was proposing, such a sum, and a mere loan too, represented moderation. The moment had come, very happily, for reopening this question. "I can't let you do anything so--so extensive. Really and truly, all I want is just a temporary loan. If you really could lend me that five hundred. You said--" "I didn't say I would. And I didn't say I wouldn't. I said it would depend." "I know. But you never said on what. If the securities I offered you aren't good enough, there's the legacy." He was silent. He knew now that his condition had had nothing to do with the securities. He must know, he would know, where he stood. "My aunt," said Elise gently, "is very old." "I wouldn't dream of touching your poor little legacy." He said it with passion. "Won't you drop all this sordid talk about business and trust me?" "I do trust you." The little white hand left off stroking the dark fur and reached out to him. He took it and held it tight. It struggled to withdraw itself. "You aren't afraid of me?" he said. "No, but I'm afraid of Partridge coming in and seeing us. He might think it rather odd." "He won't come in. It doesn't matter what Partridge thinks." "Oh, _doesn't_ it!" "He won't come in." He drew a little closer to her. "He will. He _will_. He'll come and clear away the things. I hear him coming." He got up and went to the door of the smoke-room, to the further door, and looked out. "There's no one there," he said. "They don't come 'till six and it isn't five yet.... Elise--abstract your mind one moment from Partridge. If I get that little house in London, will you live in it?" "I can't let you. You make me ashamed, after all you've done for me. It's too much." "It isn't. If I take it, will you let me come and see you?" "Oh, yes. But--" She shrank, so far as Elise could be said to shrink, a little further back into her corner. "It's rather far from Wyck," he said. "Still, I could run up once in"--he became pensive--"in three weeks or so." "For the day--I should be delighted." "No. _Not_ for the day." He was irritated with this artificial obtuseness. "For the week-end. For the week, sometimes, when I can manage it. I shall say it's business." She drew back and back, as if from his advance, her head tilted, her eyes glinting at him under lowered lids, taking it all in yet pretending a paralysis of ignorance. She wanted to see--to see how far he would go, before she--She wanted him to think she didn't understand him even now. It was this half-fascinated, backward gesture that excited him. He drew himself close, close. "Elise, it's no use pretending. You know what I mean. You know I want you." He stooped over her, covering her with his great chest. He put his arms round her. "In my arms. You _know_ you want _me_--"