I obeyed. A maid presented herself at once from the inner room. Naida spoke to her for a moment in some weird language. Then she turned towards me, yawned and stretched herself. "Prepare for a shock," she said. "For ten minutes I leave you. You seat yourself in that easy chair, you take a whisky and soda and the evening paper, you make yourself at home. You understand?" "Perfectly," I answered, not at all sorry for a few minutes' solitude. "Then au revoir! But have no fear," she added, looking back with a mocking smile, "I shall return." A quarter of an hour or so passed. I heard Naida telephoning from her bedroom and heard her voice in conversation with her maid. Then she reappeared. She was wearing a yellow creation tied around her with a girdle, Chinese sandals tied with broad yellow ribbon; and her unloosed hair was gathered together with ribbon of the same colour. She displayed herself for my admiration. "You admire, Monsieur Maurice? You like the colour?" "You look charming," I replied. "And now?" She held up her finger. "You are not to stir," she directed, waving her finger at me. She moved towards the door which led into the corridor, opened it softly and peered outside. Then, as though not satisfied, she disappeared altogether. When she returned, she closed the door with a little slam and threw herself into a chair opposite to me. "And now?" I repeated patiently. "It is the hardest part of your task, this, Monsieur Maurice," she said, with a demure little droop of the eyes. "You see the time? It is exactly two o'clock. For one hour you remain where you are. At the end of that hour you are free. You may then leave, and, if you wish it so, your courtship of Naida is over." "And for that hour?" I asked, a little unsteadily. She came and sat on the arm of my chair. Her face was upturned to mine. "Shall I keep you company?" she whispered. I leaned down and took the kiss she offered me. I held her for a moment in my arms. Then I gripped her wrists. "Naida," I said, and my own voice sounded to me unfamiliar, "of course I know this is a game, but I don't understand the rules." "We make them," she murmured. "I am in love with Rose Mindel," I continued. "I should be married to her at the present moment but for a stupid agreement between Leonard Cotton and myself, made when we three started out together. I am in love with her, but I'm no Joseph. You know what you are, and your power. I'm not any different from other men." "But you do not care, then?" she asked quickly. "There isn't any ordinary young man of my type," I answered, "who has drunk your wine and sat by your side all the evening, and received your kindness, and finds himself here alone with you, who wouldn't care--in a way--the wrong way. I care like that, if it's any good. And now you understand."