“Of old times,” he repeated to himself softly.  “Elizabeth, do you think of them sometimes?”

She was becoming more herself.  This was a game she was used to playing.  Of old times, indeed!  It seemed only yesterday that these two brothers, who had the reputation in those days of being the richest young men in New York, were both at her feet.  So far, she had scarcely been fortunate.  There was still a chance, however.  She looked up.  It seemed to her that he was losing his composure.  Yes, there was something of the old gleam in his eyes!  Once he had been madly enough in love with her.  It ought not to be impossible!

“Jerry,” she said, “I have told you these things.  It has been so very, very painful for me.  Won’t you try now and be kind?  Remember that I am all alone and it is all very difficult for me.  I have been looking forward to your coming.  I have thought so often of those times we spent together in New York.  Won’t you be my friend again?  Won’t you help me through these dark days?”

Her hand touched his.  For a moment he snatched his away as though stung.  Then he caught her fingers in his and held them as though in a vice.  She smiled, the smile of conscious power.  The flush of beauty was streaming once more into her face.  Poor fellow, he was still in love, then!  The fingers which had closed upon hers were burning.  What a pity that he was not a little more presentable!

“Yes,” he muttered, “we must be friends, Elizabeth.  Wenham had all the luck at first.  Perhaps it’s going to be my turn now, eh?”

He bent towards her.  She laughed into his face for a moment and then was once more suddenly colorless, the smile frozen upon her lips.  She began to shiver.

“What is it?” he asked.  “What is it, Elizabeth?”

“Nothing,” she faltered, “only I wish—­I do wish that you were not so much like Wenham.  Sometimes a trick of your voice, the way you hold your head—­it terrifies me!”

He laughed oddly.

“You must get used to that, Elizabeth,” he declared.  “I can’t help being like him, you know.  We were great friends always until you came.  I wonder why you preferred Wenham.”

“Don’t ask me—­please don’t ask me that,” she begged.  “Really, I think he happened to be there just at the moment I felt like making a clean sweep of everything, of leaving New York and every one and starting life again, and I thought Wenham meant it.  I thought I should be able to keep him from drinking and to help him start a new life altogether over here or on the Continent.”

“Poor little woman,” he said, “you have been disappointed, I am afraid.”

She sighed.

“I am only human, you know,” she went on.  “Every one told me that Wenham was a millionaire, too.  See how much I have benefited by it.  I am almost penniless, I do not know whether he is dead or alive, I do not know what to do to get some money.  Was Wenham very rich, Jerry?”