He sat back in his chair, flinging, every now and again, little restless glances beyond the window, pulling sometimes at his beard, answering her absent-mindedly. Then suddenly he began, fiercely, looking away from her-- "Miss Rand, I've got an apology to make to you----" His voice was so low that she could only catch the words by leaning forward--"To me?" "Yes--I've been wanting to speak all these weeks. It seemed right enough before, but since I've known you I've felt ashamed of it--as though I'd done something wrong." "What is it, Mr. Breton?" Her clear grave eyes encouraged him. "Why--I came to this house, took my rooms, simply because I knew that you were here----" "That I was here?" "Yes. I was looking about in this part of the world for rooms. I wanted to be--near Portland Place, you know. I came here and old Mrs. Tweed talked a lot and then, after a time, I said something--about my grandmother. And then she told me that someone who lived here did secretarial work for my aunt----" He stopped abruptly. "Well?" said Lizzie, laughing. "All this is not very terrible." "Then, you see, I determined to stay. I was full of absurd ideas just at the time, thought that I was going to take some great revenge--I was quite melodramatic. And so I thought that I'd use you, get to know you and then, through you--do something or another." Lizzie eyed him with merriment. "Upon my word, what were you going to make me do? Carry bombs into your aunt's bedroom or set fire to the Portland Place house? Tell me, I should like to know----" "Ah," he said, "it's all very well for you to laugh. It's very kind of you to take it that way, but lots of women wouldn't have liked it. They'd have thought it another of the things I'm always accused of doing, I suppose." "_No_," said Lizzie gravely, "it was all perfectly natural. I understand. I should have done just the same kind of thing, I expect, if I'd been in your place." The fierceness of his voice showed her that he had been brooding for weeks, and that life was, just now, harder than he could endure. "You can trust me a great deal farther than that, Mr. Breton," she said. "The other night," he began, "you said that I might talk to you. I've been pretty lonely lately--and it would help me if----" "Anything you like," she assured him. "Besides, there's more than that," he went on. "You've heard--of course you must have heard all kinds of things against me. You're in the enemy's camp and I don't suppose they measure their words. I don't know why you've been so decent to me as you have after what you must have heard----" "Don't worry your head about that," she said. "We all have our enemies." "No, but now that we're friends I'd like you to know my side of it all. I don't want to make myself out a hero or blacken all the other people, but there _is_ something to be said for me--there _is_--there _is_----"