"Oh, the reason is easy to find. I’ve made enemies of Madam Spoll and Vixley, and they have probably done their best to hurt my reputation. They made me a proposition to join them; in fact, their scheme was for me to work you for information—make love to you, in order to help them rob your father." Clytie looked at him trustfully. "You can never convince me that that was the reason why you were attracted to me, for I shall not believe you!" She patted his hand affectionately, as he sat at her feet. He shook his head. "I don’t know—I wouldn’t be sure it wasn’t." "Ah, I know you better!" She grew blithe, and a mischievous smile appeared on her lips. Her eyes twinkled as she said archly: "Perhaps I may say that I know myself better, too. I’m vainer than you seem to think, and you’re not at all complimentary. Don’t you think—don’t you think that—perhaps—I myself had something to do with your attentions to me?" She put her head on one side and looked at him with mock coquetry. His eyes feasted upon her beauty. "I won’t be banal enough to say that you are different from every woman I have ever known, or that you’re the only woman I ever loved, though both of those things are true enough. If I had ever loved any other woman, probably I should feel just the same about you as I do now. But no woman has ever stirred me mentally before. You have given me myself—nobody else could ever have done that. I have nothing to give you in return—nothing but twenty-odd mistaken, misspent years." "And how many more to be wonderfully filled, I wonder? You’re only a child, and I must teach you. Can you trust me? Remember that I knew you when you were a little boy." "I wonder what will become of me? I suppose I shall get on somehow. It doesn’t interest me much yet, but I suppose it will have to be considered. I’ll fight it out alone." He looked up suddenly. "When do you go East?" She smiled. "I came down here to tell you that I should leave on Saturday." He jumped up with a bitter look and walked to the window. She looked over to him with her eyes half shut and a delectable expression upon her lips. "But I’ve decided not to go—at all!" She almost drawled it. In an instant he was back at her side, borne on a flood of happiness. For a moment he looked at her hard. His eyes went from feature to feature, to her hands, her hair in silent approval. Then he exclaimed decidedly: "Oh, you can’t link yourself with me in any way. I’m a social outcast—why, now, I haven’t even the advantage of being a picturesque adventurer! You will compromise yourself fearfully—you’ll be ostracized—oh, it’s impossible—I can’t permit it!" "You need not fear for yourself—or for me," she said, clasping his hand. "If I love you, what do I care—what should you care? I have come to you like Porphyria—but I am no Porphyria—you’ll have no need to strangle me in my hair—my ’darling one wish’ will be easier found than that!"