“Mr. Fraide thinks it's such a pity that”--she stopped to choose her words--“that you should lose hold on things--lose interest in things, as you are doing. He has been thinking a good deal about you in the last three weeks--ever since the day of your--your illness in the House; and it seems to him,”--again she broke off, watching Loder's averted head--“it seems to him that if you made one real effort now, even now, to shake off your restlessness, that your--your health might improve. He thinks that the present crisis would be”--she hesitated--“would give you a tremendous opportunity. Your trade interests, bound up as they are with Persia, would give any opinion you might hold a double weight.” Almost unconsciously a touch of warmth crept into her words. “Mr. Fraide talked very seriously about the beginning of your career. He said that if only the spirit of your first days could come back--” Her tone grew quicker, as though she feared ridicule in Loder's silence. “He asked me to use my influence. I know that I have little--none, perhaps--but I couldn't tell him that, and so--so I promised.” “And have kept the promise?” Loder spoke at random. Her manner and her words had both affected him. There was a sensation of unreality in his brain. “Yes,” she answered. “I always want to do--what I can.” As she spoke a sudden realization of the effort she was making struck upon him, and with it his scorn of Chilcote rose in renewed force. “My intention--” he began, turning to her. Then the futility of any declaration silenced him. “I shall think over what you say,” he added, after a minute's wait. “I suppose I can't say more than that.” Their eyes met and she smiled a little. “I don't believe I expected as much,” she said. “I think I'll go now. You have been wonderfully patient.” Again she smiled slightly, at the same time extending her hand. The gesture was quite friendly, but in Loder's eyes it held relief as well as friendliness; and when their hands met he noticed that her fingers barely brushed his. He picked up her cloak and carried it across the room. As he held the door open, he laid it quietly across her arm. “I'll think over what you've said,” he repeated. Again she glanced at him as if suspecting sarcasm then, partly reassured, she paused. “You will always despise your opportunities, and I suppose I shall always envy them,” she said. “That's the way with men and women. Good-night!” With another faint smile she passed out into the corridor. Loder waited until he heard the outer door close, then he crossed the room thoughtfully and dropped into the chair that she had vacated. He sat for a time looking at the hand her fingers had touched; then he lifted his head with a characteristic movement. “By Jove!” he said, aloud, “how cordially she detests tests him!” IX