“That is your opinion—­really?”

“Really!  Decidedly.”

“Then I don’t agree with you,” she answered.

“Why not?”

“Simply that I don’t.”

“Excellent!  But you have reasons as well as convictions?

“Perhaps.  Why, for instance, is he so anxious for me to have this money?  That must be a matter of conscience?”

“Not necessarily.  An accident might bring his Montreal career to light.  His behaviour towards you would be an excellent defence.”

She shook her head.

“He isn’t mean enough to think so far ahead for his own advantage.  Villain or paragon, he is on a large scale, your Lord Arranmore.”

“He has had the good fortune,” Brooks said, with a note of satire in his tone, “to attract your sympathies.”

“Why not?  I struck hard enough at him, and he has borne me no ill-will.  He even made friends with Selina and my uncle to induce me to accept his well, conscience money.”

“I need not ask you what the result was,” Brooks said.  “You declined it, of course.”

She looked at him thoughtfully.

“I refused it at first, as you know,” she said.  “Since then, well, I have wavered.”

He looked at her blankly.

“You mean—­that you have contemplated—­accepting it?”

“Why not?  There is reason in it.  I do not say that I have accepted it, but at any rate I see nothing which should make you look upon my possible acceptance as a heinous thing.”

He was silent for a moment.

“May I ask you then what the position is?”

“I will tell you.  Lord Arranmore is coming to me perhaps this afternoon for my answer.  I asked him for a few days to think it over.”

“And your decision—­is it ready?”

“No, I don’t think it is,” she admitted.  “To tell you the truth, I shall not decide until he is actually here—­until I have heard just how he speaks of it.”

He got up and stood for a moment looking out of the window.  Then he turned suddenly towards her with outstretched hand.

“I am going—­Miss Scott.  Good-afternoon.”  She rose and held out her hand.

“Aren’t you—­a little abrupt?” she asked.

“Perhaps I am.  I think that it is better that I should go away now.  There are reasons why I do not want to talk about Lord Arranmore, or discuss this matter with you, and if I stayed I might do both.  Will you dine with me somewhere on Friday night?  I will come and fetch you.”

“Of course I will.  Do be careful how you walk.  About 7:30.”

“I will be here by then,” he answered.

On the last flight of stone steps he came face to face with Lord Arranmore, who nodded and pointed upwards with his walking-stick.

“How much of this sort of thing?” he asked, dryly.

“Ten storeys,” Brooks answered, and passed out into the street.

Lord Arranmore looked after him—­watched him until he was out of sight. 
Then he stood irresolute for several moments, tapping his boots.