He explained to her how that had never been possible.

“Evie fidgets about it,” he continued.  “She puts together the two facts that you and I seem to have known each other, and that my name is identical with your father’s.  She doesn’t know what to make of it; she only thinks ‘there’s something.’  She hasn’t said more than that in words, but I see her little mind at work.”

“Evie isn’t the only one,” she informed him.  “There’s Mr. Wayne.  He has to be reckoned with.  He recognized your voice from the first minute of hearing it, though he hasn’t said yet that he knows whose it is.  He may do so at any time.  He’s very surprising at that sort of thing.  I can see him listening when you’re there, not only to your words, but to your very movements, trying to recapture—­”

“The upshot of everything,” he said, abruptly, “is that I must marry her, take her back to the Argentine, where I found her, and where we shall both be out of harm’s way.”

“You wouldn’t be out of harm’s way.  You can’t turn your back on it like that.  You alone might be able to slip through, but not if you have Evie.”

“That will be my affair; I’ll see to it.  I take the full responsibility on myself.”

“I couldn’t let you.  Remember that.  You can’t marry her.  Let me say it plainly—­”

“Oh, you’ve said it plainly enough.”

“If I’ve said it too plainly, it’s because you force me.  You’re so wilful.”

“You mean, I’m so determined.  What it amounts to is the clash of your will against mine; and you refuse to see that I can’t give way.”

“I see that you must give way.  It’s in the nature of things.  It’s inevitable.  If I didn’t know that, do you think I should interfere?  Do you think I should dare to run the risk of wrecking your happiness if I could do anything else?  If you knew how I hate doing anything at all—­”

“But you needn’t.  You can just let things be.”

“I can’t let things be—­with all I know; and yet it’s impossible for me to appeal to any one, except yourself.  You put me in a position in which I must either betray you or betray those who trust me.  Because I can’t do either—­”

“I profit by your noble-mindedness.  I told you I would.  I’m sorry to have to do it—­I’ll even admit that I’m ashamed of it—­and yet there’s no other course for me.  I’m not taking you at an unfair advantage, because I’ve concealed nothing from you from the first.  You talk about the difficulty of your position, but you don’t begin to imagine mine.  As if everything else wasn’t gall to me, I’ve got your disapproval to add wormwood.”

“It isn’t my disapproval; it’s simply—­the situation.  My opinion counts for nothing—­”