"You have one triumphant quality, Jim. Whether it will add to your sum of suffering or compensate for all the rest, who knows? You have one inevitable success." She paused, but the rustling of the tree-tops prevented either of them from hearing Henry as he came from the pergola. Diana moved a step nearer to Jim—Henry did not make known his presence. Quite simply and sincerely she said: "You will always have the love of women, Jim." Something snapped in Jim’s brain. He stood hypnotized by a stronger force than his own will; he could not speak. Henry’s voice sounded like the cracked clang of a jarring bell in a golden silence. "That’s a dangerous gift, Jim. Professional heart-breakers ought not to be allowed in other people’s preserves." Henry spoke quietly, but he was consumed by a mad, unreasoning fury. Diana simply said, "Oh, I was just trying to tease Jim about Sadie Jones." Jim started towards the house, intending to leave Di with Henry. "Teasing—a ruthless grilling, I call it. I’ve been vivisected, Henry; it’s not a pleasant experience, believe me." But Henry, who was looking from Diana to Jim, with unmistakable meaning, said, "You stopped at an interesting—perhaps a critical—moment, Diana. I suppose I ought to beg your pardon. Where lovers are involved, the husband is an intrusion, almost an impertinence." Jim turned and retraced his steps. Diana did not move. Their eyes were fastened on Henry’s face, now flaming with passion. All Diana’s womanhood was battling within her; her face grew tense, her eyes like black pansies. She seemed unconscious of Jim’s presence; all her being was concentrated in the challenge of her eyes as she let them strike back her answer. "You are making a grave mistake, Henry. One that you will regret as long as you live." She could say no more; she wished to escape. Why didn’t Jim speak? She could hardly see him. An overwhelming desire to leave both men before the sinking trembling of her body should overpower the strength of her will, enabled her to reach the house. The men were alone; both had watched Diana gain the doorway. Neither seemed capable of helping her. Jim was the first to move; he came towards Henry with a quick, resolute step. Suddenly he became conscious of a new knowledge that checked his speech. He could only stare at Henry, while the wild beating of his heart tormented him. Much had been revealed to him regarding his feeling for Diana, during the past hour. Henry was watching him furtively. "And now, sir," he began, "I will listen to you. You have had time to think up a plausible explanation." For Diana and his aunt’s sake he must be calm, so Jim only answered, "I would not insult you or Diana by offering one." The quiet scorn of Jim’s apparent indifference maddened Henry.