To his imaginative mind, the telephone became instrument of their fate. Waiting for the call, he saw, as one mesmerized, all their past, all the possibilities of their future; forgetting, in that mesmeric instant, his mother, the law, Brunton, everything in the world except the vivid of Aliette's hair, her deep brown eyes, the poised exquisite slenderness of her. And an instant later he heard her voice. It came to him, very clear, very deliberate, across the wires: "Is that you?" "Yes." "You're very late." "I'm sorry. I didn't get away from Bruton Street till nearly ten. Are you alone?" Ronnie hated himself for that question: it sounded almost furtive. But Aliette's answer was the very spirit of frankness. "Yes. I'm quite alone. In the library. Mollie's gone to bed. Why do you ask?" "Because--there's something I want to say to you--Aliette." He paused a second, mastered by emotion; then again he said: "Aliette?" "Yes--Ronnie." "You're not angry with me--about Thursday?" "No." It seemed to him that he could almost see her lips move. "No. I'm not angry--with you: only with myself." "You know----" He hesitated. "You know that I love you." "Yes, I know that." A little laugh. "It doesn't make things any easier for me, does it?" "I want to see you again. Soon. May I?" For a long time, the wire gave no answer. At last, very faintly, as though she were thinking rather than speaking, Aliette whispered: "This isn't playing the game." "I know that. I've tried----" He could not bring himself to finish the sentence. "Oughtn't we to go on--trying?" "No." Now the man could actually vision her. It was as though she were in the room. Passion--banishing hesitancy--had its way with him. "Aliette! I can't go on living if I don't see you again. I've got to see you. Soon. To-morrow. You will meet me, to-morrow, won't you! I can't bear the thought of another three days without you." Hesitancy returned, banishing passion. "I've offended her," he thought. "She's rung off." But after an interminable silence, Aliette answered: "Where do you want me to meet you?" Then, faint again, and very shy: "I've got--we've got--such a lot of things to say to one another. Hadn't we--hadn't I--hadn't it better be in your rooms? I could come to you to-morrow afternoon. At about five o'clock. Would that do?" "Aliette--dear----" Before Ronnie could collect his wits for a further reply, he heard a whispered "Good night," and the click of a replaced receiver. CHAPTER VIII 1