"In woman's true love," he said slowly, emphasising every word, "there is mingled the trusting dependence of a child, for she always looks up to man as her protector and her guide. Man, let him love as he may, has an existence which lies outside the orbit of his affections. He has his worldly interests, his public character, his ambition, his competition with other men--but the woman of noble mind centres all in that one feeling of affection." "Really?" She laughed flippantly, toying with her bracelets. "This is a most erudite discourse. It would no doubt edify the House if one night you introduced the subject of love. You've grown of late to be quite a philosopher, my dear Dudley. Politics and that horrid old Foreign Office have entirely spoilt you." "No, you misunderstand me," he went on, deeply in earnest. "I merely want to place before you the utter folly of your present actions--all these flirtations about which people in our rank are always talking." "Ah!" she laughed; "because you're jealous. Somebody has been telling you, no doubt, that the Grand-Duke was always at my side at Fernhurst, and probably embellished the story until it forms a very nice little tit-bit of scandal." "Well, is it not true that this foreigner was with you so constantly that it became a matter of serious comment?" "I don't deny it. Why should I? He was very amusing, and if I found him so I cannot see why people should presume to criticise me. If I had a husband I might be called upon to answer to him, but as poor Dick is dead I consider myself perfectly free." "Yes, but not to make a fool of yourself by openly inviting people to cast mud at you," he burst forth impatiently. "Upon that point, Dudley, we shall never agree, so let us drop the subject," she replied, treating his criticisms airily and with utter indifference. "I shall please myself, just as I have always done." "I have no doubt you will. That is what I regret, for when a woman loses her integrity and self-respect, she is indeed pitiable and degraded." "Really!" she cried; "you are in a most delightful mood, I'm sure. What has upset you? Tell me, and then I'll forgive you." "Nothing has upset me--except your visit," he answered quite frankly. "Then I am unwelcome here?" "While you continue to follow the absurd course you have of late chosen, you are." "Thank you," she replied. "You are at least candid." "We have been friends, and you have, I think, always found me honest and outspoken, Claudia." "Yes, but I have never before known you to treat me in this manner," she answered with sudden _hauteur_. "The other day you declared your intention of severing our friendship, but I did not believe you." "Why?" "Because I knew that we loved each other." "No," he said in a hard tone, "do not let us speak of love. Speak of it to those men who dance attendance upon you everywhere, but with me, Claudia, be as frank as I am with you."