"No, no. I understand it all now," she murmured, deeply moved. "Then that was why you wanted to go away last month?" "Yes." "And I stupidly made things harder, in my blind zeal to help you?" "No, indeed. You simply convinced me, without suspecting it, that it would be cowardly to bolt at sight. Besides, it would have amounted to an open confession that--one cared." "And don't you--care?" Lenox clenched his teeth upon an inarticulate sound; and his amber mouthpiece snapped like a stick of sealing-wax. He took the pipe from his mouth; eyed it ruefully, and slipped it into his breast-pocket. "A good friend gone," he muttered. "And all on account of a woman who doesn't care a snap of the fingers whether one is alive or dead." "In my opinion that remains to be proved." "Does it? Isn't her conduct with that confounded ladykiller proof enough to convince you?" "No." "Well, then, look here. Ten minutes ago I went so far as to ask her for a dance. She gave me the snub direct: and she'll not get a chance to refuse another request of mine--that's certain." Honor's lips lifted at the corners. "I wonder what tone of voice you asked her in?" was all she said. "Quite the wrong one, no doubt. I was in no humour for going on my knees. But she knew right enough that I wouldn't have risked refusal, unless I was very keen on the dance." "All the same, you _will_ give her another chance. You must. No act of folly on her part can make it right for you to leave her in such a false position." "The position was her own choice,--not mine." "One could guess as much. Yet the fact remains that she is--yours, to make or mar: and it seems to me no less than your duty to pocket your pride, and save her from her own foolishness in spite of herself." Lenox drew an audible breath, like a man in pain. "You do know how to hit between the eyes," he said very low. "But--I have suffered enough at her hands." "And has she suffered nothing--at yours?" Honor's voice was scarcely louder than his own, and her pulses throbbed at her own daring. Lenox stood stock-still, and looked at her. "Upon . . my . . soul," he said slowly, "you are a stunning woman! I . . ." "Please don't think I meant you to answer such a question," she broke in hurriedly, with flaming cheeks. "Of course not. You meant it as a reminder that there are two sides to every question." "Yes. How nice of you to understand! I have no shadow of right to take you to task. But when the fate of two lives seems hanging on a thread, one dare not keep silence.--Now, I think we ought to turn back. And I wonder if you would mind telling me a little about your wife," she added, with diplomatic intent to prolong his softened mood. "She is so charming; so individual. But I haven't been able to get at her at all. She seems almost to dislike me; and I am just beginning to guess why." "Nonsense . . . nonsense," he protested brusquely. "You are entirely mistaken."