His arm was round her then, dragging her towards him in a lithe grip, the fierce strength of which she too well understood.  She struggled, breathing heavily, for her freedom; but he caught her face in his hand, dragged it to his lips and covered her with kisses.

Then she broke free, rising to her feet, overturning the chair behind her, pushing back the disordered hair from her forehead.

“How dare you!” she breathed.

Countless women have said it, in countless moments similar to this.  And with it, often, seeing all the circumstances that have led up to it in their different light, comes the knowledge—­as it came also to Sally—­the understanding of how the man has dared.  Recklessness had led her.  In her heart, she blamed herself.  She might have known men now; known them from her knowledge at least of one man.  Undoubtedly she was to blame, taking everything into account—­the defencelessness of her position, the fact that he had known of her relationship with Traill and its termination; yet her eyes flamed with contempt as they met his.

“Your hat is over on that chair.” she said presently in a strident voice.  “Will you go?”

He crossed the room quietly—­no want of composure—­and picked it up.

“Would you rather I didn’t come and see you again?” he asked, brushing the hat casually with his sleeve.

“I never want to see you again!” she exclaimed.

He smiled amiably.  “Don’t you think you’re rather foolish?”

“Foolish!”

“Yes—­the unmarried man who keeps a woman is bound to leave her some time or other—­that’s not half as likely to be the case with—­”

“What do you mean?” She was white to the lips.

He looked puzzled.  “I’m afraid I can’t understand you,” he said.

She tried to answer him, but the words mingled in a stammering of confusion before she could utter them.

“You don’t think there’s a chance of Traill coming back to you, do you?” he went on.  “I shouldn’t be here, I assure you, if there were.”

Sally’s knees trembled with weakness.  An overwhelming nausea shook her till she shuddered.

“Did he tell you to come here?” she whispered.

“Heavens, no!  I don’t suppose he’d do that.  He wouldn’t do a thing like that.  But I’m pretty sure he’s in love with that Miss Standish-Roe—­the beautiful Coralie.  He knows it.  He won’t admit it; but I’m certain he is, and I rather think I’d better open his eyes a little.”

That last remark did not fall within her understanding.  She took no notice of it.

“And so you came here of your own accord?”

“Yes—­why not?  I had an apparently erroneous idea that you liked me.  When you let me come back here after dinner, I was sure of it.  I saw no reason why we shouldn’t get along together just as well as you and Traill did.”

“Oh!” she exclaimed, and she hid her face in her hand.