“After what has passed between him and me--the promises we’ve exchanged--the plans we’ve made--there is no going back! I don’t wish to go back. I----” “Mary--I love you!” I cried. “I love you--and you love me. That’s the wall between you and any other man, between me and any other woman.” She had waved to a passing taxi. It swept into the edge of the drive. She opened the door. “You are not coming with me,” she said. “And I shall not see you again.” I laid my hand on her arm and forced her to meet my gaze. “You are hysterical now,” I said. “But you will be calm, and----” She gave me a cold smile--it would have deceived those who do not understand the temperaments that can conceal themselves. “I am perfectly calm, I assure you,” said she. “As you were the first time we ever met,” said I. “You’ve no right to marry any man but me, Mary. If you did you’d be wronging yourself--me--him most of all. That is the truth, and you will see it.” She dragged her arm away, burst into violent sobs, sank upon the seat of the cab. I hesitated--obeyed a right instinct, closed the door, gave her address to the ignoring chauffeur, stood watching the cab whisk away. I was shaking from head to foot. But I had no fear for the outcome. I knew that I had won--that _we_ had won. XI Rossiter--I believe I have mentioned the name of my new secretary--was lying in wait for me at the hotel entrance. He read me a telegram from Margot: Edna was ill, was not expected to live, begged me to come at once. I wrote to Mary Kirkwood--a brief repetition of what I had said to her--“of what I know both your intelligence and your heart are saying to you, dear.” I told her that Edna was desperately ill and had sent for me, and that I should be back as soon as I could get away. I went on to say many things such as a man deeply in love always says. No doubt it was a commonplace letter, as sincere love letters are apt to be; but because it was from my heart I felt that, for all the shortcomings, it would go to her heart. I admit I am not a facile love-maker. I have had little practice. And I suspect, those who are facile at love-making have got their facility by making love speeches so often when they were not in earnest that they cannot but have lost all capacity to be in earnest.