"Traitors die slowly in London, but they do die," she said slowly, with deep meaning. "Curse you!" he cried. "What do you intend to do?" "Listen!" she answered, rising slowly from her chair and standing before him resolute, desperate, and defiant. "I came here to-night for one purpose--to make a proposal to you." "A proposal! To marry me, eh?" he laughed. "This is no time for weak jokes, signore," she answered angrily. "Silence is best in the interests of us both, is it not?" He paused, his eyes fixed on the hearthrug. "I suppose it is," he admitted at last. "Think," she urged, "what would be the result were the whole of those strange facts exposed. Who would suffer?" He nodded, but no word passed his hard lips. She noticed that what she uttered now impressed him. "Our acquaintance," she went on in a more sympathetic tone, "was formed in curious circumstances, and it has only been fraught with unhappiness, sorrow, and despair. I come to you to-night, Frank," she added in a low despondent voice, "to ask you to help me to regain my freedom." He laughed aloud a harsh, cruel laugh, saying--"You have already your freedom. I hope you are enjoying it. No doubt Armytage loves you, and London is a change after Tuscany." His laugh aroused within her a veritable tumult of hatred. "You speak as if I were not an honest woman," she cried, her eyes glistening. "Even you shall not brand me as an adventuress." "Well, I think your adventures in Florence and in Milan were curious enough," he said, "even if we do not mention that night in Livorno when Vittorina--" "Ah no!" she exclaimed, interrupting him. "Why should you cast that into my face? Now that we are friends no longer, you seek to heap disgrace upon me by recalling all that has gone by. In this conversation I have not sought to bring back to your memory any of the many recollections which must be painful. My object in coming to you is plain enough. I am perfectly straightforward--" "For the first time in your life." She took no heed of his interruption, but went on saying-- "Charles Armytage has promised me marriage." "He's a fool!" was the abrupt rejoinder. "When he knows the truth, he'll hate you just as much as I do." "You certainly pay me delicate compliments," she said, drawing herself up haughtily. "Your hatred is reciprocated, I assure you. But surely this is not a matter of either love or hatred between us. It is a mere arrangement for our mutual protection and benefit." "What do you want me to do?" he asked, leaning back upon the mantelshelf in affected laziness--"you want my silence?" "Yes," she answered eagerly, looking straight into his dark countenance. "You're afraid that if you marry Charlie Armytage I may expose you--eh?" She nodded, with downcast eyes. He was silent for a few moments. "Then," he answered at last in a deep, determined voice, "understand once and for all that Armytage is a friend of mine. He shall never marry you."