The emotion in her voice stirred him thrillingly; her hands lay confidently in his; her gray eyes met his so sweetly, so honestly, that hope awoke for a moment. "Strelsa," he said, "however it was with us--however it is now, I think that together we amount to more than we ever could have amounted to apart." "I know it," she said fervently. "I was nothing until I began to comprehend you." "What was I before you awoke me?" "A man neglecting his nobler self.... But it could not have lasted; your real self could not have long endured that harlequinade we once thought was real life.... I'm glad if you think that I--something about me--aroused you.... But if I had not, somebody or some circumstance would have very soon served the same purpose." "Do you think so?" he said, stooping to kiss her hands. She looked at him while he did so, confused by the quick pleasure of the contact, then schooled herself to endure it, setting her lips in a grave, firm line. And it was a most serious face he lifted his eyes to as she quietly withdrew her fingers from his. "You always played the courtier to perfection," she said, trying to speak lightly. "Tell me about that accomplished and noble peer, Lord Dankmere. Are you still inclined to like him?" He accepted her light and careless change of tone instantly, and spoke laughingly of Dankmere: "He's really a mighty nice fellow, Strelsa. Anyway, I like him. And _what_ do you think his lordship has been and gone and done?" "Has he become a Russian dancer, Rix?" "No, bless his heart! He's fallen head over ears in love and is engaged and is going to marry!" "Who?" "Our stenographer!" "Rix!" "Certainly.... She's pretty and sweet and good and _most_ worthy; and she's as crazy about Dankmere as he is about her.... Really, Strelsa, she's a charming young girl, and she'll make as pretty a countess as any of the Dankmeres have married in many a generation." Strelsa's lip curled: "I don't doubt that. They were always a horrid cock-fighting, prize-fighting, dissolute lot, weren't they?" "Something like that. But the present Dankmere is a good sort--really he is, Strelsa. And as for Jessie Vining, she's sweet. You'll be nice to them, won't you?" She said: "I'd be nice to them anyway. But now that you ask me to I'll be whatever you wish." "You _are_ a corker," he said almost tenderly; but with a slight smile she kept her hands out of his reach. "We mustn't degenerate into sentimentalism just because we're glad to see each other," she said so calmly that he did not notice the tremor in her voice. "And by the way, how is Mr. Westguard?" They both laughed. "Speaking of sentiment," said Quarren, "Karl now exudes it daily. He and Bleecker De Groot and Mrs. Caldera--to Lester's rage--have started a weekly paper called _Brotherhood_, consisting of pabulum for the horny-handed.