“Make you understand, Miss Eversley!” he said, halting deliberately before a bookcase.  “What exactly is it that you do not understand?”

“Everything,” Averil said, with a comprehensive gesture.  “I have always believed that you thought more of Derrick than anything else in the world.”

“Ah!” said Carlyon quietly.  “That is probably the root of the misunderstanding.  Correct that, and the rest will be comparatively easy.”

He took a book from the shelf before him and ran a quick eye through its pages.  After a brief pause he put the volume back and joined the girl on the hearthrug.

“Is my behaviour still an enigma?” he said, with a slight smile.

She turned to him impulsively.  “Of course,” she said, colouring vividly, “I am aware that to a celebrated man like you the opinion of a nobody like myself cannot matter one straw.  But—­”

“Pardon me!” Carlyon gravely.  “Even celebrated men are human, you know.  They have their feelings like the rest of mankind.  I shall be sorry to forfeit your good opinion.  But I have no means of retaining it.  Derrick cannot see my point of view.  You, of course, will share his difficulties.”

“That does not follow, does it?” said Averil.

“I should say so,” said Carlyon.  “You see, Miss Eversley, you have already told me that you do not understand my action.  Non-comprehension in such a matter is synonymous with disapproval.  You are, no doubt, in full possession of the facts.  More than the bare facts I cannot give you.  I will not attempt to justify myself where I admit no guilt.”

“No,” Averil said.  “Pray don’t think I am asking you to do anything of the sort!  Only, Colonel Carlyon,” she laid a pleading hand on his arm and lifted a very anxious face, “you remember we used to be friends, if you will allow the presumption of such a term.  Won’t you even try to show me your point of view in this matter?  I think I could understand.  I want to understand.”

Carlyon leant his elbow on the mantelpiece and looked very gravely into the girl’s troubled eyes.

“You are very generous, Averil,” he said.

“Generous,” she echoed, with a touch of impatience.  “No; I only want to be just—­for my own sake.  I hate to take a narrow, cramped view of things.  I hate that Dick should.  A few words from you would set us both right, and we could all be friends again.”

“Ah!” said Carlyon.  “But suppose—­I have nothing to say?”

“You must have something!” she declared vehemently.  “You never do anything without a reason.”

“Generous again!” said Carlyon.

“Oh, don’t laugh at me!” cried Averil, stung by the quiet unconcern of his words.

He straightened himself instantly, his face suddenly stern.  “At least you wrong me there!” he said, and before the curt reproof of his tone she felt humbled and ashamed.  “Listen to me a moment!  You want my point of view clearly stated.  You shall have it.