She would never be the same Violet again.

Yet moved as she undoubtedly was, she was not conscious of the least desire to know who the young man was, or even to be made acquainted with his story.  She simply wanted to dream her dream undisturbed.

It was therefore with a sense of unwelcome shock that, in the course of the reception following the programme, she perceived this fine young man approaching herself, with his right hand touching his left shoulder in the peculiar way which committed her to an interview with or without a formal introduction.

Should she fly the ordeal?  Be blind and deaf to whatever was significant in his action, and go her way before he reached her; thus keeping her dream intact?  Impossible.  His eye prevented that.  His glance had caught hers and she felt forced to await his advance and give him her first spare moment.

It came soon, and when it came she greeted him with a smile.  It was the first she had ever bestowed in welcome of a confidence of whose tenor she was entirely ignorant.

To her relief he showed his appreciation of the dazzling gift though he made no effort to return it.  Scorning all preliminaries in his eagerness to discharge himself of a burden which was fast becoming intolerable, he addressed her at once in these words: 

“You are very good, Miss Strange, to receive me in this unconventional fashion.  I am in that desperate state of mind which precludes etiquette.  Will you listen to my petition?  I am told—­you know by whom—­“(and he again touched his shoulder) “that you have resources of intelligence which especially fit you to meet the extraordinary difficulties of my position.  May I beg you to exercise them in my behalf?  No man would be more grateful if—­ But I see that you do not recognize me.  I am Roger Upjohn.  That I am admitted to this gathering is owing to the fact that our hostess knew and loved my mother.  In my anxiety to meet you and proffer my plea, I was willing to brave the cold looks you have probably noticed on the faces of the people about us.  But I have no right to subject you to criticism.  I—­”

“Remain.”  Violet’s voice was troubled, her self-possession disturbed; but there was a command in her tone which he was only too glad to obey.  “I know the name” (who did not!) “and possibly my duty to myself should make me shun a confidence which may burden me without relieving you.  But you have been sent to me by one whose behests I feel bound to respect and—­”

Mistrusting her voice, she stopped.  The suffering which made itself apparent in the face before her appealed to her heart in a way to rob her of her judgment.  She did not wish this to be seen, and so fell silent.

He was quick to take advantage of her obvious embarrassment.  “Should I have been sent to you if I had not first secured the confidence of the sender?  You know the scandal attached to my name, some of it just, some of it very unjust.  If you will grant me an interview to-morrow, I will make an endeavour to refute certain charges which I have hitherto let go unchallenged.  Will you do me this favour?  Will you listen in your own house to what I have to say?”