She did not look up. A white hand with red hairs growing thick on the back of it offered her a pencilled card. She made no movement to take it. He said, thrusting the card underneath her eyes: "It is printed here in German letters. You read and speak my language badly, so I will translate for you—’Squadron-Captain-Pilot Count Theodor von Herrnung, Imperial Field Flying Service, Flight Station XXX., Taubefeld, near Diebrich, West Hessen, Germany.’ Write your letter to me in English. The address copy from this. Will you not take the card?" "There is no need to. I do not mean to write to you!" "_Danke_. You are candid," he said, "at least. You give me to understand that whatever happens—" he repeated the words with a singular inflection "_whatever happens!_—you will have no more to do with me?" "Have I not told you so twice already?" He gritted his teeth and said, controlling furious anger: "_Erklären Sie_! _Was giebt es_? Why are you so—rottenly furious with me? You have yourself to thank for—what has happened! You led me on. You made me crazy about you. And the devil of it is I am so still! The sight of you maddens me! Listen! Do not be stupid—unkind to yourself and to me! In three days from now, you will get an envelope at your Club with plenty of money. Join me at my headquarters at Taubefeld and then—you will see! We will be happy—you shall have plenty of money to throw about when we visit Berlin and other big cities, and jewels, dresses, pleasure, admiration—everything a beautiful woman wants! _Grosse Gott_! Can I offer anything more tempting? What are you saying? ’Yes!’ or ’No!’" Her narrowed eyes looked like long black slits in her white face. The pale lips barely moved to answer: "Neither! Are you proposing to marry me?" He laughed woodenly, and repeated: "Marry you! Ha, ha! What _verdammt_ nonsense are you talking? What has love to do with getting married? Nothing that I have ever heard! Of course I shall marry—my family have arranged all that for me. But my Countess will not interfere with my mistress—that I promise you! Come, be kind, my beautiful Isis! Whisper now that you agree!" He bent his head to hear. The whisper came from the pale lips: "I will see you in Hell first!" He started, taken aback. Her own utterance had shocked her. "Am I a street-walker already," she asked herself, "that I begin to curse and swear?" A whistle trilled. He started and said: "So then, all is over between us?" She bent her head assentingly, and her glance fell guiltily on Bawne who was standing near. Von Herrnung, aware of him at the same instant, turned on him with a scowl and the harsh demand: "What is this? Do little English boys pry and listen?" Bawne returned, looking at the other squarely: "Beg pardon, but Mr. Sherbrand’s calling you. He says it’s getting jolly late."