She was silent for several moments.  Then she glanced at him curiously.

“Why on earth,” she asked, “should my sister make this offer to you?  She isn’t a fool.  She doesn’t usually trust strangers.”

“She trusted me, apparently,” Tavernake answered.

“Can you understand why?” Beatrice demanded.

“I think that I can,” he replied.  “If one can rely upon one’s perception, she is surrounded by people whom she might find agreeable companions but whom she is scarcely likely to have much confidence in.  Perhaps she realized that I wasn’t like them.”

“And you want very much to take this money?” she said, half to herself.

“I want to very much indeed,” Tavernake admitted.  “I was on my way to see her this morning and to ask her to let me have it a day or two before the time, but I felt, somehow, that there seemed to be a certain amount of deceit in going to her and taking it without saying a word to you.  I felt that I had to come here first.  But Beatrice, don’t ask me to give it up.  It means such a long time before I can move again.  It’s the first step that’s so difficult, and I must—­I must make a start.  It’s such a chance, this.  I have spent so many hours thinking about it.  I have planned and worked and sketched it all out as no one else could do.  I must have that money.”

They walked on in silence until they reached the stage door.  Beatrice was thinking of her companion as she had seen him so often, poring over his plans, busy with ruler and india-rubber, absolutely absorbed in the interest of his task.  She remembered the first time he had talked about this scheme of his, how his whole face had changed, the almost passionate interest with which he had worked the thing out even to its smallest details.  She realized how great a part of his life the thing had become, what a terrible blow it would be to him to have to abandon it.  She turned and faced him.

“Leonard,” she said, “perhaps, after all, you are right.  Perhaps I give way too much to what, after all, is only a sentimental feeling.  I am thankful that you came and told me; I shall always be thankful for that.  Take the money, but pay it back as soon as you can.”

“I shall do that,” he answered.  “I shall do that you may rely upon it.”

She laid her hand upon his arm.

“Leonard,” she begged, “I know that Elizabeth is very beautiful and very fascinating, and I don’t wonder that you like to go and see her, but I want to ask you to promise me one thing.”

He felt as though he were suddenly turned into stone.  It was not possible—­it could not be possible that she had guessed his secret!

“Well?” he demanded.

“Don’t let her introduce you to her friends; don’t spend too much time there,” she continued.  “Elizabeth is my sister and I don’t —­really I don’t want to say anything that doesn’t sound kind, but her friends are not fit people for you to know, and Elizabeth —­well she hasn’t very much heart.”