Galorey remained, smoking, and the duchess continued her notes in silence, cooling down at her desk. Her companion knew her too well to speak to her until she had herself in hand, and when finally she took up her pen and turned about, she appeared conscious for the first of his presence. “Here still!” she exclaimed. “I thought I might do for a safety valve, Lily. You could let some of your anger out on me.” The duchess left her desk and came over to him. “I expect you despise me thoroughly, don’t you, Gordon?” They had not been alone together since her engagement to Blair, for she had taken pains to avoid every opportunity for a tête-à-tête. “Despise you?” he repeated gently. “It’s awfully hard, isn’t it, for a chap like me to despise anybody? We’re none of us used to the best quality of behavior, you know, my dear girl.” “Don’t talk rot, Gordon,” she murmured. “You didn’t ask my advice,” he continued, “but I don’t hesitate to tell you that I have done everything I could to save the boy.” She accepted this philosophically. “Oh, I knew you would; I quite expected it, but—” and in the look she threw at him there was more liking than resentment—“I knew you, too; you _couldn’t_ go very far, my dear fellow.” “I think Dan Blair is excellent stuff,” Gordon said. “He is the greenest, youngest, most ridiculous infant,” she exclaimed with irritation, and he laughed. “His money is old enough to walk, however, isn’t it, Lily?” She made an angry gesture. “I expected you’d say something loathsome.” Her companion met her eyes directly. She left her chair and came and sat down beside him on the small sofa. As he did not move, or look at her, but regarded his cigarette with interest, she leaned close to him and whispered: “Gordon, try to be nice and decent. Try to forget yourself. Don’t you see what a wonderful chance it is for me, and that, as far as you and I are concerned, it can’t go on?” The face of the man by her side grew somber. The charm this woman had for him had never lessened since the day when he told her he loved her, long before his marriage, and they were both too poor. “We have always been too poor, and Edith is jealous of me every day and hour of her life. Can’t you be generous?” He rose and stood over her, looking down at her beautiful form and her somewhat softened face, but his eyes were hard and his face very pale. “You had better go, Gordon,” she said slowly; “you had better go....” Then, as he obeyed her and went like a flash as far as the door, she followed him and whispered softly: “If you’re really only jealous, I can forgive you.” He managed to get out: “His father was my friend; he sent the boy to me and I’ve been a bad guardian.” He made a gesture of despair. “Put yourself in my place. Let Dan Blair go, Lily; let him go.” Her eyelids flickered a little, and she said sharply: “You’re out of your senses, Gordon—and what if I love him?”