"The usual thing--a woman," drawled the other. "Didn't you know? Some pretty coquette--the usual game--but the cost was heavier than usual--to him. It knocked it out of him, you know. I never saw a fellow so hard hit. That was five years ago, and he's never written a line since. Poor fellow!" The knowledge that she had made a mistake five years ago was growing plainer to her. At the end of the fortnight she met him and asked him to come and see her. He smiled, and did not come. Her eyes grew too big for the small, sad face. She met him again, and asked him why he had not come. He looked down into the sweet, true eyes, and his love weakened his will again. He promised he would come. He came, and stayed five minutes. He looked at her sternly as he greeted her. "Why do you want me?" he said, and watched the colour come and go in her cheeks with pitiless eyes. "We--used--to be--friends," she whispered. He laughed. "Never! I never felt friendship for you," he said, "nor you for me. You forget. Five years is a long time, but I have a retentive memory. I forget nothing." "Nor I," she murmured. "No? Then why do you ask me to come and see you?" She did not answer. He looked round the pretty shaded room. He laughed again. "There is a difference," he said, "in you too." She looked up quickly. "I am the same," she said, knowing her own heart. "Are you?" His eyes grew stormy. "Listen," he said, in a low, tense voice: "I am five years wiser than I was--then. I will not be a tool again. You have ruined my life--doesn't that content you? I would have staked my life on your goodness and purity--once. I dare not believe in any woman since you, with your angel's eyes, are false. I was full of ambition and hope once; you killed both. I tried to write--after. I could not. I shall never do anything now--never be anything. I despise myself, and it's not a nice feeling to live with. It makes men desperate. I love you still. Do you understand? I have loved you all the time, and I loathe myself for it." His voice changed. "You may triumph," he said, "but now you understand--I will not come again." She stretched out her arms after him, but he was gone. And she knew now quite clearly that she had made a mistake five years ago. For three weeks and a half she did not see him. Then she saw him when he thought he was alone. She studied his face with eyes that ached at what they saw. Then she went forward and touched him gently on his arm. "Well?" he said. "Will you come," she said in a low voice, "to see me----" "Thanks, no." His eyes rested bitterly on her rich gown. It came across him again how wise she had been. Tied to him, she could not have been as she was now. "I have something I must say to you," she said tremulously; "will you come--just this once?" He looked down into the soft eyes with the beautiful light in them. "I would rather not," he said gently. The weariness in his eyes brought a sob to her throat.