Mavering flung Boardman’s chair over, and seated himself on its rungs.

“I went to bed, and waited for the next thing to happen.  I found my thunderbolt waiting for me when I woke up.  I didn’t know what it was going to be, but when I felt a ring through the envelope of that note I knew what it was.  I mind-read that note before I opened it.”

“Give it to the Society for Psychical Research,” suggested Boardman.  “Been to breakfast?”

“Breakfast!” echoed Mavering.  “Well, now, Boardman, what use do you suppose I’ve got for breakfast under the circumstances?”

“Well, not very much; but your story’s made me pretty hungry.  Would you mind turning your back, or going out and sitting on the top step of the stairs’ landing, or something, while I get up and dress?”

“Oh, I can go, if you want to get rid of me,” said Mavering, with unresentful sadness.  “But I hoped you might have something to suggest, Boardy.’

“Well, I’ve suggested two things, and you don’t like either.  Why not go round and ask to see the old lady?”

“Mrs. Pasmer?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I thought of that.  But I didn’t like to mention it, for fear you’d sit on it.  When would you go?”

“Well, about as quick as I could get there.  It’s early for a call, but it’s a peculiar occasion, and it’ll show your interest in the thing.  You can’t very well let it cool on your hands, unless you mean to accept the situation.”

“What do you mean?” demanded Mavering, getting up and standing over Boardman.  “Do you think I could accept the situation, as you call it, and live?”

“You did once,” said Boardman.  “You couldn’t, unless you could fix it up with Mrs. Frobisher’s sister.”

Mavering blushed.  “It was a different thing altogether then.  I could have broken off then, but I tell you it would kill me now.  I’ve got in too deep.  My whole life’s set on that girl.  You can’t understand, Boardman, because you’ve never been there; but I couldn’t give her up.”

“All right.  Better go and see the old lady without loss of time; or the old man, if you prefer.”

Mavering sat down on the edge of the bed again.  “Look here, Boardman, what do you mean?”

“By what?”

“By being so confoundedly heartless.  Did you suppose that I wanted to pay those women any attention last night from an interested motive?”

“Seems to have been Miss Pasmer’s impression.”

“Well, you’re mistaken.  She had no such impression.  She would have too much self-respect, too much pride—­magnanimity.  She would know that after such a girl as she is I couldn’t think of any other woman; the thing is simply impossible.”

“That’s the theory.”

“Theory?  It’s the practice!”

“Certain exceptions.”

“There’s no exception in my case.  No, sir!  I tell you this thing is for all time—­for eternity.  It makes me or it mars me, once for all.  She may listen to me or she may not listen, but as long as she lives there’s no other woman alive for me.”