He lived through a week of the wretchedest indecision, and at the end of it, when Wednesday afternoon came round, was again climbing the many stairs to the Frothinghams' flat; even more nervous than last time, much more ashamed of himself, and utterly doubtful as to his reception. The maid admitted him without remark, and showed him into an empty room. When he had waited for five minutes, staring at objects he did not see, Alma entered. 'Mamma went out to lunch,' she said, languidly shaking hands with him, 'and hasn't come back yet.' No greeting could have conveyed less encouragement. She seated herself with a lifeless movement, looked at him, and smiled as if discharging a duty. 'I thought'--he blundered into speech--'that Wednesday was probably your regular afternoon.' 'There is nothing regular yet. We haven't arranged our life. We are glad to see our friends whenever they come.--Pray sit down.' He did so, resolving to stay for a few minutes only. In the silence that followed, their eyes met, and, as though it were too much trouble to avert her look, Alma continued to regard him. She smiled again, and with more meaning. 'So you have quite forgiven me?' fell from her lips, just when Harvey was about to speak. 'As I told you at the station, I feel that there is more fault on my side. You wrote under such a strange misconception, and I ought to have patiently explained myself.' 'Oh no! You were quite right in treating me sharply. I don't quite remember what I said, but I know it must have been outrageous. After that, I did what I ought to have done before, just had a talk with Mamma.' 'Then you took it for granted, without any evidence, that I came here as a meddler or busybody?' His voice was perfectly good-humoured, and Alma answered in the same tone. 'I _thought_ there was evidence. Mamma had been talking about her affairs, and mentioned that she had consulted you about something--Oh, about Mrs. Abbott.' 'Very logical, I must say,' remarked Rolfe, laughing. 'I don't think logic is my strong point.' She sat far back in the easy chair, her head supported, her hands resting upon the chair arms. The languor which she hardly made an effort to overcome began to invade her companion, like an influence from the air; he gazed at her, perceiving a new beauty in the half-upturned face, a new seductiveness in the slim, abandoned body. A dress of grey silk, trimmed with black, refined the ivory whiteness of her flesh; its faint rustling when she moved affected Harvey with a delicious thrill.