"In that case, doctor, we may as well part for ever." "For ever?" Jerce started to his feet, much agitated. "Oh, Clarice, you don't mean that. I love you--I adore you--I worship you. No doubt it may seem ridiculous to you that a man of my age should speak like a schoolboy, and should show his deepest feelings so plainly. But I have had a lonely life, and you are all the world to me. Don't send me away without hope. Only say that some day--in some sweet hour--I can come and take your hand in mine." Clarice rose also, and her eyes sparkled with anger. "You are mad to talk in this way," she cried, passionately. "How can I say what you want me to say, when I am engaged, and when I love?" "I am rich," pleaded Jerce, eagerly. "I have a great name. I have heard that my name will be included in the list of New Year's honours. I shall be Sir Daniel Jerce, and you--" "I shall be Mrs. Ackworth," interrupted Clarice, imperiously. "Not a word more, doctor; my mind is made up." "And so is mine," said Jerce, with a snarl, his face livid, and his eyes hard. "You shall not marry this man." "Who will prevent me?" asked Clarice, with superb disdain. "Who will prevent me from becoming Anthony's wife?" "I will. You shall become my wife." "If there was not another man in the world, I would decline that honour. And let me remind you that I am no school-girl to be frightened by stage thunder. How dare you?--how dare you?" Clarice stamped her foot, and clenched her hands. "Go away, and never come near me again." Jerce remained silent for one moment. Then, without a word, he took up his hat and walked slowly to the door. Only when he had opened it, and stood with the handle in his hand, did he speak. "I shall go away," he said, with a steady look at the girl, "and I shall not return until you summon me."