“I shall not stay with you a moment longer,” I declared, ignoring the latter part of his sentence, and laying my hand upon the gate. “Won’t you--shake hands before you go?” he asked. I hesitated. His request was gruff and his tone implied rather a command than a favor. But I looked up at him, and I saw that he was in earnest. So I held out my hand and we parted friends. CHAPTER XIX A CORNER OF THE CURTAIN A note was brought in to me at luncheon time, addressed in a bold yet delicate feminine hand which was already becoming familiar. It was from Adelaide Fortress, and it consisted of a single line only-- “Will you come to me this afternoon?--A.F.” I went to see her without any hesitation. She was sitting alone in her room, and something in her greeting seemed to denote that she was not altogether at her ease. Yet she was glad to see me. “Sit down, child,” she said. “I have been thinking about you all day. I am glad that you came.” “Not very cheerful thoughts, then, I am afraid,” I remarked, with a certain half-unconscious sympathy in my tone. For her face was white and drawn, as though she had spent a sleepless night and an anxious morning. “Not very,” she admitted. “I have been thinking about you ever since you left me yesterday. I am sorry for you. I am sorry for all of us. It was an evil chance that brought that South American girl here.” “Was she born in South America?” I asked, with pointless curiosity. “I do not know,” she answered. “I should think so. She told me that she had spent most of her life there. A girl who dresses as she does here, and wears diamonds in the morning, must have come from some outlandish place. Her toilette is not for our benefit, however.” I looked up inquiringly. She continued, with a slight frown upon her face-- “She follows Bruce Deville about everywhere. I never saw anything so atrociously barefaced. If he were her husband she could not claim more from him. They have just gone by together now.” “What! this afternoon?” I asked. “Not a quarter of an hour ago,” she declared. “She was holding his arm, and looking up at him with her great black eyes every moment. Bah! such a woman gives one a bad taste in one’s mouth.” “I wonder that Mr. Deville is not rude to her,” I remarked. “He does not seem to be a man likely to be particularly amiable under the circumstances. I should not think he would be very easily annexed.” She smiled faintly. “From his general behavior one would not put him down as a willing squire of dames,” she said; “but that girl is like a dog fawning for a bone. She will not let him alone. She waits about for him. She hates to have him out of her sight.” “Perhaps--perhaps it is a good thing. It might take her mind off other things,” I suggested, softly. “That is what I too am hoping,” she admitted. “That is why I believe Bruce endures her. There is one thing only of which I am afraid.” “That is----” I asked.