She drew her hands away, turned her head aside, her face both white and red.  “Oh, hush, you must not say it!” she said.  “You forget; do not make me fear you and hate myself. * * * I wanted to be your friend—­from the first, to help you, as I said; be, then, a friend to me, that I may forgive myself.”

“Forgive yourself—­for what?  I wish to God I had the right to proclaim my love—­if you would have it, dear—­to all the world. * * * And I will know the truth, for I will find your husband, or his grave.”

She looked up at him gravely, a great confidence in her eyes.  “I wish you knew how much in earnest I am—­in wishing to help you.  Believe me, that is the first thought.  For the rest I am—­shall I say it?—­the derelict of a life; and I can only drift.  You are young, as young almost as I in years, much younger every other way, for I began with tragedy too soon.”

At that moment there came a loud knock at the outer door, then a ring, followed by a cheerful voice calling through the window—­“I say, Hagar, are you there?  Shall I come in or wait on the mat till the slavey arrives. * * * Oh, here she is—­Salaam!  Talofa!  Aloha!—­which is heathen for How do you do, God bless you, and All hail!”

These remarks were made in the passage from the door through the hallway into the room.  As Baron entered, Hagar and Mrs. Detlor were just coming from the studio.  Both had ruled their features into stillness.

Baron stopped short, open mouthed, confused, when he saw Mrs. Detlor.  Hagar, for an instant, attributed this to a reason not in Baron’s mind, and was immediately angry.  For the man to show embarrassment was an ill compliment to Mrs. Detlor.  However, he carried off the situation, and welcomed the Afrikander genially, determining to have the matter out with him in some sarcastic moment later.  Baron’s hesitation, however, continued.  He stammered, and was evidently trying to account for his call by giving some other reason than the real one, which was undoubtedly held back because of Mrs. Detlor’s presence.  Presently he brightened up and said, with an attempt to be convincing, “You know that excursion this afternoon, Hagar?  Well, don’t you think we might ask the chap we met this morning—­first rate fellow—­no pleb—­picturesque for the box seat—­go down with the ladies—­all like him—­eh?”

“I don’t see how we can,” replied Hagar coolly.  Mrs. Detlor turned to the mantelpiece.  “We are full up; every seat is occupied—­unless I give up my seat to him.”

Mrs. Detlor half turned toward them again, listening acutely.  She caught Hagar’s eyes in the mirror and saw, to her relief, that he had no intention of giving up his seat to Mark Telford.  She knew that she must meet this man whom she had not seen for twelve years.  She felt that he would seek her, though why she could not tell; but this day she wanted to forget her past, all things but one, though she might have to put it away from her ever after.