Diane kept herself quite still, her needle arrested half-way through its stitch.  She took time to reflect that it was useless to feel annoyed at anything he might say, and when she formed her answer it was in the spirit of meeting him in his own vein.

“What makes you think I ever had the chance?”

“Because I gave it to you myself.”

“You, Mr. van Tromp?”

“Yes; me.  I did all that wire-pulling when you first came to New York; and I did it just so that you might catch him.”

“Oh?”

“I did,” he declared, proudly.  “And if you had been the woman I took you for, you could have had him.”

“But suppose I—­didn’t want him?”

“Oh, don’t tell me that,” he said, pityingly.  “Why shouldn’t you want him?—­just as much as he’d want you?”

“Well, I’ll put it that way if you like.  Suppose he didn’t want me?”

“Then the more fool he.  I picked you out for him on purpose.”

“May I ask why?”

“Certainly.  I saw he was getting on in life, and, as he’d been a good many years a widower, I imagined he’d had some difficulty in getting any one to have him.  If he’s good-looking, he’s not what you’d call very bright; and he’s got a temper like—­well, I won’t say what.  I’d pity the woman who got him, that’s all; and so—­”

“And so you thought you’d pity me.”

“I did pity you as it was.  It seemed to me you couldn’t be worse off, not even if you married Derek Pruyn.”

“It was certainly good of you to give me the opportunity; and if I had only known—­”

“You would have let it slip through your fingers just the same.  You’re one of the young women who will always stand in their own light.  I dare say, now, that if I told you I was willing to marry you myself, you wouldn’t profit by the occasion.”

“I should never want to profit by your loss, Mr. van Tromp.”

“But suppose I could afford—­to lose?”

Unable to answer him there, she held her peace, though it was a relief that, before he had time to speak again, a page-boy knocked at the door and entered with a card.  Diane took it hastily and read the name.

“Tell the gentleman I can’t see him,” she said, with a visible effort to speak steadily.

“Wait!” the banker ordered, as the boy was about to turn.  “Who is it?” Without ceremony he drew the card from Diane’s hand and looked at it.  “Heu!” he cried.  “It’s Bienville, is it?  Of course you’ll see him; of course you will; of course!  Here, boy, I’ll go with you.”

Returning to Gramercy Park after this interview, the banker pottered about his apartment until, on hearing the door-bell ring, he looked out of the window and recognized Derek Pruyn’s chauffeur.  On the stairs, as he went down, he heard Miss Lucilla’s voice in the hall.

“Oh, come in, Derek.  Marion isn’t here yet, but she won’t be long.  I asked you to come punctually, because I gathered from her note that she wanted to see you very particularly, and without Mrs. Bayford’s knowledge.  She has evidently something on her mind that she wants to tell you.”