'Yes, I know. I understand what you mean. But I hate deceit, Landi. I don't think I could lead a double life. And even if I would, he wouldn't!'

She spoke rather proudly.

'Pauvre garcon!' said Sir t.i.to. 'Je l'admire.'

'So do I,' said Edith. 'Aylmer's not a man who could shake hands with Bruce and be friends and deceive him. And you know, before, when I begged him to remain ... my friend ... he simply wouldn't. He always said he despised the man who would accept the part of a tame cat. And he doesn't believe in Platonic friendship: Aylmer's too honest, too _real_ for that.'

'But, Edith, oh, remember, before,' said Landi taking her hand, 'even when Bruce ran away with another woman, you couldn't bear the idea of divorce.'

'I know. But I may have been wrong. Besides, I didn't care for him as I do now. And I'm older now.'

'Isn't this rather sudden, my dear?'

'Only because I've let myself go--let myself be natural! Oh, _do_ encourage me--give me strength, Landi! Don't let me be a coward! Think if Aylmer goes out again and is killed, how miserable I should feel to have refused him and disappointed him--for the second time!'

'Wait a moment, Edith. Suppose, as you say, he goes out again and is killed, and you _haven't_ disappointed him, what would your position be then?'

She couldn't answer.

'How is it your conscientiousness with regard to Bruce doesn't come in the way now? Why would it ruin him less now than formerly?'

'Bruce doesn't seem to matter so much.'

'Because he isn't fighting?' asked Sir t.i.to.

'Oh no, Landi! I never thought of that. But you know he always imagines himself ill, and he's quite all right really. He'll enjoy his grievance.

I _know_ he won't be unhappy. And he's older, and he's not tied to that silly, mad girl he ran away with. And besides, I'm older. This is probably _my_ last chance!'

She looked at Landi imploringly, as if begging his permission.

He answered calmly: 'ecoute, cherie. When do you see him again?'

'I'm to take him for a drive tomorrow.'

'My dear Edith, promise me one thing; don't undertake anything yet.'

'But why not?'

'You mustn't. This may be merely an impulse; you may change again. It may be a pa.s.sing mood.'

'I don't think it is,' said Edith. 'Anyhow, it's my wish at present.

It's the result of thinking, remember--not of his persuasion.'

'Go for a drive, but give him no hope yet.' He took both her hands.

'Make no promise, except to me. Don't I know you well? I doubt if you could do it.'

'Yes, I could! I could go through _anything_ if I were determined, and if I had the children safe.'

'Never mind that for the present. Live for the day. Will you promise me that?'

She hesitated for a moment.

Then he said:

'Really, dear, it's too serious to be impulsive about. Take time.'

'Very well, Landi. I promise you that.'

'Then we'll meet again afterwards and talk it over. I'll come and see you.'

'Very well. And mustn't I tell him anything? Not make him a little bit happy?'

'Tell him nothing. Be nice to him. Enjoy your drive. Put off all decision at present.'

He looked at her. Her eyes were sparkling, her colour, her expression were deepened. She looked all animation, with more life than he had ever seen in her.... Somehow the sight made his heart ache a little, a very little.

Poor girl! Of course she had been starving for love, and hidden the longing under domestic interests, artistic, social, but human. But she deserved real love, a real lover. She was so loyal, so true herself.

'Tiens! You look like a lamp that has been lighted,' said Sir t.i.to, chuckling a little to himself. 'Eh, bien!--and the pretty nurse? Does she still dance the Cachuca? I know I'm old-fashioned, but it's impossible for me not to a.s.sociate everything Spanish with the ridiculous. I think of guitars, mantillas, sombreros, or--what else is it? Ah, I know--onions.'

'She isn't even Spanish, really!'

'Then why did you deceive me?' said Landi, a shade absently, with a glance at his watch and another in the mirror.

'She can't remain with Aylmer. She knows it herself. I'm trying to arrange for her to become a companion for Lady Conroy.'

He laughed.

'You are more particular about her being chaperoned than you were last week.'

'Landi, Aylmer will never care for her. She's a dear, but he won't.'

'Tu ne l'a pas revu? Lui--Aylmer?'

'No, but he's written to me.'

'Oh, for heaven's sake, my child, burn the letters! I daresay it won't be difficult; they are probably all flames already.'

'I did have one lovely letter,' said Edith.

She took it out of her dress. He glanced at it.

'Mon Dieu! To think that a pupil of mine drives about in a taxi-cab with compromising letters in her pocket! Non, tu est folle, veritablement, Edith.'

To please him she threw it into the fire, after tearing a small blank piece of the paper off, and putting this unwritten-on sc.r.a.p back in the bodice of her dress. As she hurried away, she again promised him not to undertake anything, nor to allow Aylmer to overpower her prudent intention during their drive.

'What time do you start? I think I shall come too,' said Sir t.i.to, pretending to look at his engagement-book.

He burst out laughing at her expression.