A tremulous archness crept into her voice. Nigel shuddered. "I'm pleased I met you," she said gently, after a pause, "because I wanted to tell you how dreadfully sorry I am about your brother." "Thank you." "And I want to tell you that I'm so glad about your success in London. I saw in the papers how you distinguished yourself at Herr von Gleichroeder's concert." Nigel did not speak. "I suppose you'll soon be going back to town?" she went on timidly. "I don't know. I can't leave my sister." "But you can take her with you. It would be a pity to throw up your career just when everything looks so promising." They were not far from Redpale now. The sunset was creeping over the sky--only the east before them was dark, banked high with thundery vapour. Nigel could still hear Tony speaking, as if in a kind of dream. His thoughts were busy elsewhere. "Won't you?" repeated Tony for the second time. "Won't I what?" "Go back to London, and make yourself famous." "I don't see much chance of that." "But I do--and so will you when you're not so unhappy. Now, to please me, won't you promise to go back to London and make yourself a great career? You and I used to be friends once--I hope we're friends still--and I shall always be interested in everything you do. I expect to see your name in a very high place some day. Now, for my sake, promise to go back." "For your sake...." "Yes--since you won't go for your own." They had stopped a moment to rest her foot. Nigel lifted his eyes from the grass and looked into hers--wondering. Was it true, was it even possible, that she had never seen his love? She could not, or she would not speak like this--"For my sake." After all, she would never expect him to dare ... that would blind her to much that might have betrayed him had he been worthier. No, she had not seen his love, and she had never loved him. She had never loved any man but Quentin Lowe--he was her first love, he had lit the first flame in her heart, and that heart was his, in all its purity and burning.