“In that respect I am unable to help you,” he replied.  “And in case I have not made myself sufficiently clear upon the subject, let me tell you that I deeply resent the plot by which you endeavoured to foist such an indignity upon me.”

“This is your last word?” she demanded.

“Absolutely!”

“Then I demand that you set me free.”

He was a little staggered.

“How on earth can I do that?”

“You can allow me to divorce you.”

“And spoil any chance I might have of reentering political life,” he remarked quietly.

“I have no further interest in your political life,” she retorted.

He looked at her steadfastly.

“There is another way,” he suggested.  “I might divorce you.”

Her eyes fell before the steely light in his.  She did her best, however, to keep her voice steady.

“That would not suit me,” she admitted.  “I could not be received at Court, and there are other social penalties which I am not inclined to face.  In the case of a disagreement like ours, if the man realises his duty, it is he who is willing to bear the sacrifice.”

“Under some circumstances, yes,” he agreed.  “In our case, however, there is a certain consideration upon which I have forborne to touch—­”

It was as much her anger as anything else which induced her lack of self-control.  She gave a little cry.

“Andrew, you are detestable!” she exclaimed.  “Let us end this conversation.  You have said all that you wish to say?”

“Everything.”

“Please go away, then,” she begged.  “I am expecting visitors.  I think that we understand each other.”

He rose to his feet.

“I am sorry for our failure, Stella,” he said.  “Pray do not hesitate to write to me at any time if my advice or assistance can be of service.”

He passed down the lounge, more crowded now than when he had entered.  A very fashionably dressed young woman, one of a smart tea party, leaned back in her chair as he passed and held out her hand.

“And how does town seem, Mr. Tallente, after your sylvan solitude?” she asked.

Tallente for a moment was almost at a loss.  Then a glance into her really very wonderful eyes, and the curve of her lips as she smiled convinced him of the truth which he had at first discarded.

“Miss Miall!” he exclaimed.

“Please don’t look so surprised,” she laughed.  “I suppose you think I have no right to be frivolling in these very serious times, but I am afraid I am rather an offender when the humour takes me.  You kept your word to Mr. Dartrey, I see?”

Tallente nodded.

“I came to town yesterday.”

“I must hear all the news, please,” she insisted.  “Will you come and see me to-morrow afternoon?  I share a flat with another girl in Westminster—­Number 13, Brown Square.”

“I shall be delighted,” he answered.  “I think your hostess wants to speak to me.  She is an old friend of my aunt.”