“I haven’t; not anything special, that is.”

“You’ve told me something special already—­that you’re not looking for him back.”

“I’d rather not talk about it now, if you don’t mind.”

“Then we’ll talk about what goes with it—­the other side of the subject.”

“There is no other side of the subject.”

“Oh, come now, Miriam!  You haven’t heard all I’ve got to tell you.  You’ve never let me really present my case, as we lawyers say.  If you could see things as I do—­”

“But I can’t, and you mustn’t ask me to-day.  I’m tired—­”

“It would rest you.”

“No, no; not to-day.  Don’t you see I’m not—­I’m not myself?  I’ve had a very trying morning.”

“What’s the matter?  Tell me.  I can keep a confidence even if I can’t do some other things.  Come now!  I don’t like to think you’re worried when perhaps I could help you.  That’s what I should be good for, don’t you see?  I could assist you to bear a lot of things—­”

His tone, which was so often charged with a slightly mocking banter, became tender, and he attempted to take her hand.  For a minute it seemed as if it might be a relief to trust him, to tell him the whole story and follow his counsel; but a second’s thought showed her that she could not shift the responsibility from herself, and that in the end she should have to act alone.

“Not to-day,” she pleaded.  “I’m not equal to it.”

“Then I’ll come another day.”

“Yes, yes; if you like, only—­”

“Some day soon?”

“When you like, only leave me now.  Please go away.  You won’t think I’m rude, will you?  But I’m not—­not as I generally am—­”

“Good-bye.”  He put out his, hand frankly, and smiled so humbly, and yet withal so confidently, that she felt as if in spite of herself she might yield to his persistence through sheer weariness.

* * * * *

To her surprise, the next few weeks passed without incident bringing no development in the situation.  She saw little of Evie and almost nothing of Ford.  One or two encounters with Charles Conquest had no result beyond the reiteration on his part of a set phrase, “You’re coming to it, Miriam,” which, while exasperating her nerves, had a kind of hypnotic effect upon her will.  She felt as if she might be “coming to it.”  Without calculating the probabilities she saw clearly enough that if she married Conquest the very act would furnish proof to Ford that her intervention in his affairs had been without self-interest.  It would even offer some proof to herself, the sort of proof that strengthens the resolution and supports what is tottering in the pride.  Notwithstanding the valor with which she struggled her victory over herself was not so complete that she could contemplate the destruction of Ford’s happiness with absolute confidence in the purity of her motives in bringing it to ruin.  It was difficult to take the highest road when what