’He got angry and violent, and said that I had persuaded him to give up his profession, and must have known quite well why he did it, and that no woman had a right to interfere with a man’s life until she was prepared to accept the responsibility of her interference.  I hardly understood what he said, because he frightened me; but I don’t think that was at all a nice thing to say, do you, Connie?’ and her hand tightened upon her friend’s.  ’But he said other things too, much worse than that,—­I can’t tell you.  And at last I felt as if I wanted to scream.  I should have screamed in a minute or two, I know, so I told him to go away.  Then he became silent all at once, and just stood looking at me—­and—­and—­I think that was worse than being abused.  At last he said “Good-bye,” so sorrowfully, and I knew it would be for ever, and we shook hands, and he went out into the hall and closed the door.  It seemed to me that the door would never open again.’

The threatened tears began to fall; Mrs. Willoughby, however, did not interrupt, and Clarice went on.

’So as I heard the front door unlocked to let him out, I opened the door of the room and went into the hall.  Mr. Mallinson was standing on the first step.  He never looked back—­he was turning up his coat-collar—­and somehow it all seemed so sad.  I felt as if I hadn’t a friend left in the world.  So—­I—­I—­I—­’

‘Well?’ asked Mrs. Willoughby quickly.

’I called him back into the room, and asked him if we couldn’t be friends.’

‘What did he answer?’

’That he didn’t see how that was possible since he wanted to marry me.  But I said that wouldn’t matter as long as he didn’t tell me so.  I think men are so inconsiderate, don’t you, Connie?’ she broke off in a tone of reproach.  ’I can’t understand what there is to laugh at.  You wouldn’t either if you had seen him then, because he just sat down and cried, not as you and I do, you know, but with great tears running through his fingers and heaves of his shoulders.  It was heartbreaking.  Then he got up and begged my pardon for what he had said, and that was the worst of it all.  He declared that if he went the rest of his way alone the journey would be all the easier for the mile I went along with him, and at that somehow I began to cry too, and—­and—­that’s all.’

Mrs. Willoughby sat silent for a little.  ‘So you refused him,’ she said thoughtfully, and she bent towards Clarice.  ‘Is it to be Stephen Drake?’

Clarice started up from the sofa, and stood looking into the fire.  ’What an extraordinary thing that you should ask me that,’ she replied slowly, ‘because Mr. Mallinson asked it too.’  She paused for a second or so and went on.  ‘I have never thought of him in that way, I am sure.  Oh no!’ and she roused herself from her attitude of deliberation and crossed to the window, speaking briskly as she went.  ‘I had quite a different reason.’

Mrs. Willoughby looked at her sharply but said nothing, and presently Clarice turned back into the room as though moved by a sudden impulse.  ‘Can I write a note here?’ she asked.