It was a futile day and he was glad when it came to an end. It was not until he was hanging his cap on the hall tree that he remembered Andree was to come—to come there to dine this evening. He paused with hand in mid-air as he recalled how they had made the plan. Hereafter she was not to meet him at the Metro, but would come directly to the apartment. It would be better, and there was something exquisitely attractive about it. He had been very happy. Her lips had been close to his as she had given her promise to come there to him; the perfume of her had been in his nostrils, and in that maddening way of perfumes it returned now unasked and undesired. It was almost as if she were there, close to him, but invisible. He remembered that she had lain in his arms at the moment, smiling, sweet, a marvelous creature to be treasured with a great tenderness.... And she had gone from that to a meeting with another man—to purchase material success at the price of spurious love!... What should he do? He did not want to see her, felt that he could not undergo the ordeal of seeing her.... He snatched his cap and turned to the door, only to replace it again on the hall tree and to stand wavering, undecided.... He did not know it, would not admit it, but his heart cried out to see her, to feel the delight of her presence.... He despised her, but he loved her.... As one does at such moments, he sought refuge in sophistry. It was necessary for him to see her this last single time. He must tell her that he had detected her infamy and, with harsh words, cast her out of his life. He told himself that this was both appropriate and essential.... Yes, he would allow her to come and would admit her—and then—and then she should hear the truth, the bald truth. She should hear what a decent man thought of such behavior as hers.... Not that it would benefit her or change a character that could be guilty of the thing of which she was guilty.... But he had to accuse her.... It was the desire, the cruel desire, which comes to every man at some moment, for some cause, to inflict agony on the one he most loves.... Kendall glanced at his watch. It wanted fifteen minutes to seven, the hour at which Andree would arrive, so he went into the _salon_, there to pace up and down, restlessly composing dignified but biting speeches one after the other and forgetting them as soon as composed.... Bert entered and spoke to him, but Kendall only growled, and Bert passed into his own room with a shrug. From the door to the window Kendall paced, and from the window to the door, to and fro, with rapid, excited stride. As the moment of Andree’s arrival neared, his thoughts became less coherent and himself more apprehensive. He felt that it was his duty to be very angry, so he worked himself up to anger.... Then came a soft, timid rap at the door.