"Only not to leave the open sore--to help him to forget! He must know--he does know"--she held herself proudly--"that I have no secrets from you. So that when the time comes for remembering, for thinking it over, he will shrink from you, or hate you. Whereas, what I want"--her eyes filled with tears--"is that he should _know_ you--only that! I ought to have brought it about long ago." "Are you forgetting that I owe him this morning my political existence?" The voice betrayed the inner passion. "He would be the last person to remember it!" she cried. "Why not take it quite, quite simply?--behave so as to say to him, without words, 'Be our friend--join with us in putting out of sight what hurts us no less than you to think of. Shut the door upon the old room--pass with us into a new!'--oh! if I could explain!" She hid her face in her hands again. "I understand," he said, after a long pause. "It is very like you. I am not quite sure it is very wise. These things, to my mind, are best left to end themselves. But I promised Mrs. Allison; and what you ask, dear, you shall have. So be it." She lifted her head hastily, and was dismayed by the signs of agitation in him as he turned away. She pursued him timidly, laying her hand on his arm. "And then--" Her voice sank to its most pleading note. He caught her hand; but she withdrew herself in haste. "And then," she went on, struggling for a smile, "then you and I have things to settle. Do you think I don't know that I have made all your work, and all your triumph, gall and bitterness to you--do you think I don't know?" She gazed at him with a passionate intensity through her tears, yet by her gesture forbidding him to come near her. What man would not have endured such discomforts a thousand times for such a look? He stooped to her. "We are to talk that out, then, when I come back?--Please give these letters to Saunders--there is nothing of importance. I will go first to Tressady's house." * * * * * Maxwell drove away through the sultry streets, his mind running on his task. It seemed to him that politics had never put him to anything so hard. But he began to plan it with his usual care and precision. The butler who opened the door of the Upper Brook Street house could only say that his master was not at home. "Shall I find him, do you imagine, at the House of Commons?" The butler could not say. But Lady Tressady was in, though just on the point of going out. Should he inquire? But the visitor made it plain that he had no intention of disturbing Lady Tressady, and would find out for himself. He left his card in the butler's hands.