“We came into each others lives,” I said. “We did not ask it of Fate, she pushed us there; and I tried not to speak to him because I had promised a friend of mine I would not, as she said she liked him herself, and it made us both dreadfully unhappy, and every day we mattered more to one another; until yesterday--when I thought he had gone away for good, and I was too miserable for words--we met in the Park, and it was no use pretending any longer. Oh! you _can’t_ want to crush out all joy and life for us, just because I have red hair! It is so horribly unjust.” “You beautiful siren,” he said. “You are coaxing me. How you know how to use your charms and your powers; and what _man_ could resist your tempting face!” I rose in passionate scorn. “How dare you say such things to me!” I said. “I would not stoop to coax you--I will not again ask you for any boon! I only wanted you to do me the justice of realizing you had made a mistake in my character--to do your brother the justice of conceding the point that he has some right to love whom he chooses. But keep your low thoughts to yourself! Evil, cruel man! Robert and I have got something that is better than all your lands and money--a dear, great love, and I am glad; glad that he will not in the future receive anything that is in your gift. I shall give him the gift of myself, and we shall do very well without you,” and I walked to the door, leaving him huddled in the chair. Thus ended our talk on justice! Never has my head been so up in the air. I am sure had Cleopatra been dragged to Rome in Augustus’s triumph she would not have walked with more pride and contempt than I through the hall of Vavasour House. The old servant was waiting for me, and Véronique, and the brougham. “Call a hansom, if you please,” I said, and stood there like a statue while one of the footmen had to run into St. James’s Street for it. Then we drove away, and I felt my teeth chatter, while my cheeks burnt. Oh! what an end to my scheme, and my dreams of perhaps success! But what a beast of a man! What a cruel, warped, miserable creature. I will not let him separate me from Robert, never, never! He is not worth it. I will wait for him--my darling--and, if he really loves me, some day we can be happy, and if he does not--but oh! I need not fear. I am still shaking with passion, and shall go to bed. I do not want any dinner. * * * * * _Tuesday morning, Nov. 29th._ VÉRONIQUE would not let me go to bed, she insisted upon my eating, and then after dinner I sat in an old, but lovely wrap of white crêpe, and she brushed out my hair for more than an hour--there is such a tremendous lot of it, it takes time.