'I will not tell you now. But you see I am a scoundrel. Out of your own showing I am a scoundrel.' 'But you ought to tell me what this experiment is; and as to what I said about a man wilfully hurting and misleading, I meant that to apply to important things, to things of consequence only. What you said of me, and the little uncomfortableness I felt, are not worth a word, a thought.' 'It is only your goodness leads you to say so.' 'No, I am quite sincere.' 'Yes, your gentleness is always sincere.' She raised her eyes to him for a moment, and then dropped them, and kept them down. There was something in his look and manner that subdued her, surprised and silenced her. He went on,-- 'I do not agree with you at all, Miss Osborne, about these trifling annoyances to you being of no consequence. On the contrary, I think them of the greatest consequence. The difficulty you will have to solve is this: how is it that I, who look on any trifle which might annoy you as a thing of great consequence, should yet deliberately invent a means of rendering you seriously uncomfortable?' For a moment she looked up at him. All other expression but that of fear had now left her face. 'I--I don't know,' she said, with hesitating timidity. 'I merely wanted to try if I could interest you in any way. I wanted to find out if, by falsely attributing to you unfavourable opinions of myself, I could rouse any uneasiness in your mind. You think that very cruel no doubt.' 'I do not think you cruel.' 'Ah, that is not my question. Do not you think that cruel?' 'I really do not know. I am sure you would not be cruel to anyone.' 'No, not without a motive; and in the present case my motive was to find out if you could be hurt through me.' 'You have taken a great deal of trouble. I am sure what I could or could not feel is not worth while taking so much trouble about.' 'I know you do not mean that for satire.' 'No, no, no! I am quite in earnest. Please forgive me for any rash thing I may say. I am not clever, and often seem to mean what I do not want to say, what I do not mean.' 'Well,' he said, 'as you do not care to pursue the subject, we will drop it for the present.' 'Say for ever,' she cried, looking up pleadingly in his eyes. 'No, I cannot drop it for ever. I must speak to you of it again.' 'Why?' 'Because at some future time I intend asking you a question of an opposite character, and of ten thousand times more importance to me.' There was a long pause after this. He thought briefly, and with a self-congratulatory inward smile: 'If that does not puzzle and interest her, I know nothing about women.'