“Will this do?” he asked her.  “May I stay for a bit?  I’ll be very good.”

“You always are good,” said Juliet, as she sat down.

“No?  Really?  You don’t mean that?  Well, it’s awfully kind of you if you do, but it isn’t true.”  He dropped down beside her and offered her his cigarette-case.  “I can be—­I have been—­a perfect devil sometimes.”

“Yes.  I know,” she said, as she chose a cigarette.

“Oh, you know that, do you?  How do you know?” He was watching her closely, but as the faint colour mounted to her face, his eyes fell.  “No, don’t tell me!  It doesn’t matter.  Wait while I get you a match!”

He struck one and held it first for her and then for himself, his brown hand absolutely steady.  Then he turned with a certain resolution and fixed his eyes upon the gleaming horizon.

“It was kind of you to come round to the sing-song last night,” he said, after a pause.  “I hope it wasn’t that that made you sleep badly.”

“I enjoyed it,” said Juliet, ignoring the last remark.  “Your performance was wonderful.  I should think you are tired after it.”

“That sort of thing doesn’t tire me,” he said.  “There’s no difficulty about it when it goes with a swing and everybody is out to make it a success.  I shall get you to sing next time.”

She shook her head.  “I’m afraid not, Mr. Green.”

“Why not?” He turned and looked at her again, his hand shading his eyes.

She hesitated.

“Do you mind telling me?” he said gently.  “There is a reason of course?”

“Yes.”  Yet she smoked her cigarette in silence after the word as though there were nothing more to be said.

He sat motionless, still with his hand over his eyes.  At last “Juliet,” he said, his voice very low, “am I being—­a nuisance to you?”

She looked at him swiftly.  He had uttered the name so spontaneously that she wondered if he realized that he had made use of it.

He went on before she could find words to answer him.  “I’m not a bounder.  At least I hope not.  But—­yesterday—­last night—­I hadn’t got such a firm hold on myself as usual.  I began by being furiously angry—­you remember the episode at the gate—­and that weakened my self-control.  Then—­when I knew you were standing there listening—­temptation came to me, and I hadn’t the strength to resist.  You knew, didn’t you?  You understood?”

She nodded mutely.

“Will you forgive me?” he said.

She was silent.  How could she tell him what that wild passion of music had done to her?

He went on after a moment.  “I hope you’ll try anyway, because I never meant to offend you.  Only somehow I felt possessed.  I had to reach you—­or die.  But I didn’t mean to hurt you.  My dear, you do believe that, don’t you?  My love is more than a selfish craving.  I can do without you.  I will—­since I must.  But I shall go on loving you—­all my life.”