Her color deepened, and she tried to release her hands from his, but his grip tightened until it hurt. She made no further attempt, and he moved still closer to her. "Please let me go," she said, keeping her eyes steadily from him. "You are inartistic." "But I ask you--and you are a gentleman." Something of the dislike that he had always known she felt for him crept into her voice and left a nice tinge of irony. "I have a valet and three addresses," he said, "and only pay my tailor once a year.... In most countries that gives one the standing of a gentleman." She bit her lip and glanced quickly at him. His pulses, already stirred by wine and the intrigue of a midnight amour, leaped into a fever at the glimpse of burning eyes and lips that slightly trembled. He placed his hand on her shoulder and drew her face towards his. "Why," she said hesitatingly--"why do you want to kiss me?" Montague smiled. "The eternal question, Vera. It has trapped more men into proposals than all the wiles of a generation of fond mothers." "But you don't love me," she said, her hands pressed against the lapels of his jacket in self-defense. "On such a night as this," he said, "who could help but love you?" "Dennis, please let me go--I mean it--I shall call for help." His brow contracted with a sudden frown. "You come here," he said, "at midnight--into a deserted conservatory ... with me. Then, because I do what you knew from the start I would do, you suddenly decide to play 'Little Miss Prude from the Convent.'" "I--I should not have come. I did not want to, Dennis." His lips curved into a smile. "Then why did you?" Her eyes pleaded with him not to prolong the scene, but he was mad with the joy of seeing this sensitive woman, who had so long kept him at a distance, caught in the meshes of his fascination, and he held her in his arms, confident of his power to sway her at his will. "I fought against it, Dennis," she said quickly. "But--I had to come. Oh, why force me to say such a thing. Can you not see how unfair you are?" She struggled to her feet, but he stood before her, barring the way to the door. His breath came faster. This was a charming surrender! It had gracefulness, novelty, charm.... Only, something in her eyes warned him to come no closer.