She was silent for a moment. Then her eyes stole a stealthy glance at the card-playing party in the next room. Gerard watched her, and said-- “I have told you why I don’t believe you can care for Denver Van Santen. I want to know whether you care for the other fellow.” She turned to him with a scoffing air. “How on earth can it matter to you for whom I care, Mr. Buckland, when you look upon me as an accomplice of card-sharpers?” she asked lightly. “I don’t know why I do care,” he replied desperately, “except that you are such an enigma that every detail concerning you is of surpassing interest to me. I don’t understand you. I believe it’s difficult to understand any woman; but certainly I never believed it until I met you. But it seems to me that you unite in your own person all the puzzling attributes of all the women who ever lived. The consequence is that I adore you at one moment, I hate you the next. One day I believe that all my suspicions of you are flimsy and groundless, and that I only want the key to solve the mystery which will show you to be all I want to believe you; the next day I can see in you only a malignant enchantress, charming men to their undoing, without heart and without conscience.” “I’ve told you to believe that last description to be true, haven’t I?” “But I can’t--I won’t. Rachel, when I spoke to you before about my feeling for you, you promised to ask to be set free.” “And I did ask--as I wrote you--and was refused. Don’t begin the old argument again. It is of no use. You shouldn’t have come here to-day--you shouldn’t have come here at all. It is all pain, nothing but pain and distress that you give yourself and me by coming. Mr. Buckland, be warned by me. This is not the place where women--or men, either--are seen at their best. I don’t mean that there is any harm in what we do, but the atmosphere is not good, not wholesome. Take my advice: say good-bye to me now, and go back to town, and don’t come here again. As I’ve told you, my way and yours lie far apart; there is no advantage in pretending not to know it. Now, will you be good, and wish me good-bye, and find you have an appointment in town that takes you back early?” The lights had been turned up, and Gerard knew that old Mrs. Van Santen, from her corner of the room near the tea-table, was watching him and Miss Davison. These two were sitting close by the curtains of the wide window, partly hidden by one of them, indeed, though not sufficiently for the old lady not to be able to see that something very interesting was the subject of their conversation. Gerard felt her eyes upon him, even when he was not looking at her; and presently, even while he was so much occupied with Rachel, he saw the old lady beckon Delia to her, and speak to her hurriedly, in a low voice. In the meantime he turned to Miss Davison and answered her question after a short pause.