'Oh!' she said at last. Her voice quivered. She was clutching at her self-control as it slipped from her. 'Oh! And what is my daughter to you, Mr Burns!' 'A great friend.' 'And I suppose you think it friendly to try to spoil her chances?' 'If Mr Gifford is a sample of them--yes.' 'What do you mean?' She choked. 'I see. I understand. I am going to put a stop to this once and for all. Do you hear? I have noticed it for a long time. Because I have given you the run of the house, and allowed you to come in and out as you pleased, like a tame cat, you presume--' 'Presume--' I prompted. 'You come here and stand in Cynthia's way. You trade on the fact that you have known us all this time to monopolize her attention. You spoil her chances. You--' The invaluable Parker entered to say that the cab was at the door. We drove to the Fletchers' house in silence. The spell had been broken. Neither of us could recapture that first, fine, careless rapture which had carried us through the opening stages of the conflict, and discussion of the subject on a less exalted plane was impossible. It was that blessed period of calm, the rest between rounds, and we observed it to the full. When I reached the ballroom a waltz was just finishing. Cynthia, a statue in black, was dancing with Tanky Gifford. They were opposite me when the music stopped, and she caught sight of me over his shoulder. She disengaged herself and moved quickly towards me. 'Take me away,' she said under her breath. 'Anywhere. Quick.' It was no time to consider the etiquette of the ballroom. Tanky, startled at his sudden loneliness, seemed by his expression to be endeavouring to bring his mind to bear on the matter. A couple making for the door cut us off from him, and following them, we passed out. Neither of us spoke till we had reached the little room where I had meditated. She sat down. She was looking pale and tired. 'Oh, dear!' she said. I understood. I seemed to see that journey in the cab, those dances, those terrible between-dances ... It was very sudden. I took her hand. She turned to me with a tired smile. There were tears in her eyes ... I heard myself speaking ... She was looking at me, her eyes shining. All the weariness seemed to have gone out of them. I looked at her. There was something missing. I had felt it when I was speaking. To me my voice had had no ring of conviction. And then I saw what it was. There was no mystery. We knew each other too well. Friendship kills love. She put my thought into words. 'We have always been brother and sister,' she said doubtfully. 'Till tonight.' 'You have changed tonight? You really want me?'