Then she broke out into the last comic ditty, and had them worked up to a pitch of languid delight, when suddenly--so suddenly that her words came into the middle of the chorus (in which they all joined) and could be heard above it--she said, sharply: “That’s enough. I’m tired. You can go.” “Oh, but, by Jove! it’s early yet, Bella!” remonstrated the young lord. “Early or late, I’m tired,” she retorted, with a smoldering savageness. “You haven’t been hanging by your heels or doing the big drop, or you’d be tired. Anyway, I’m tired of you. Baby, it’s time you were in bed. Good-night, all of you!” “Come on, she’ll be in one of her tantrums in another moment,” said Sir Harry in an undertone. They laughed, got their hats, and, wishing her good-night, sauntered out, his lordship lingering a moment to pay the bill--Seth eying the pile of gold, as the waiter deftly swept it up, with a keen hunger--and the two were left alone. “Shut the door,” said Bella to the waiter; then, when it was closed behind him, she sank into the chair, and leaned her head on her hand. Seth waited with the same impassive silence, and it almost seemed that she had forgotten him, when suddenly she raised her head and looked at him. Her face had grown pale and haggard, and there was a weary, worn look in her expressive eyes. “Well?” she said. “What have you followed me for? How did you find me?” He looked at her with an expression half-sullen, half-threatening. “Find you! Yes, I’d trouble enough. I’ve been looking for you for months. I might have known you’d come to London.” “You might,” she said, with a tired kind of contempt. “But London’s a big place.” “Yes. I shouldn’t have found you even now, if I hadn’t seen a likeness of you in one of the shop windows.” “Ah, yes! I see!” she said, shutting her lips tight. “And now you’ve found me you want money, I suppose?” “Of course,” he assented, roughly. “And suppose I don’t choose to give it to you?” she demanded. “Then,” he began, but he stopped as she sprang to her feet and looked down at him with her black eyes flashing angrily. “Look you here, Seth!” she said, slowly, and between her white, even teeth. “You know me by this time, and you know whether you can frighten or bully me. You tried it once, and you know the result! I’d rather die”--she caught up one of the knives and flung it down again with a gesture of defiance--“than be the slave of any man, least of all of you!” He took a bunch of hothouse grapes from the plate, and picked them off one by one, keeping his small, dark eyes fixed on her watchfully. “I’d rather die!” she repeated. “If you think because I’m up in the world you’re going to live on the money I risk my life for, you’re mistaken. I’m not afraid of you, Seth; I’m not afraid of any man living----” “’Cept one,” he remarked, quietly, watching her keenly.