“You are certainly a devoted admirer of the family,” she laughed.  “Perhaps you were in love with her all the time.”

“Perhaps I was,” he admitted.

She shook her head.

“I don’t believe it,” she said.  “I think you were quite fond of me once.  You have such absurdly old-fashioned ideas or I think that you would be fond of me now.”

Tavernake rose to his feet.

“I am going,” he declared.  “This will be good-bye.  To-morrow I am going to British Columbia.”

The laughter faded for a moment from her face.  She was suddenly serious.

“Don’t go,” she begged.  “Listen.  I know I am not good like Beatrice, but I do like you—­I always did.  I suppose it is that wonderful truthfulness of yours.  You are a different type from the men one meets.  I am rather a reckless person.  It is such a comfort sometimes to meet any one like you.  You seem such an anchorage.  Stay and talk to me for a little time.  Take me out to-night.  You asked me to go with you once, you know, and I would not.  To-night it is I who ask you.”

He shook his head slowly.

“This is good-bye!” he said, firmly.  “I suppose, after all, you were not unkind to me in those days, but you taught me a very bitter lesson.  I came to you to-day in fear and trembling.  I was afraid, perhaps, that the worst was not over, that there was more yet to come.  Now I know that I am free.”

She stamped her foot.

“You shall not go away like that,” she declared.

He smiled.

“Do you think I do not understand?” he continued.  “It is only because I am able to go, because the touch of your fingers, that look in your eyes, do not drive me half mad now, that you want me to stay.  You would like to try your powers once more.  I think not.  I am satisfied that I am cured indeed, but perhaps it is safer to risk nothing.”

She pointed to the door.

“Very well, then,” she ordered, “you can go.”

He bowed, and already his fingers were on the handle.  Suddenly she called to him.

“Leonard!  Leonard!”

He turned round.  She was coming towards him with her arms outstretched, her eyes were full of tears, there were sobs in her voice.

“I am so lonely,” she begged.  “I have thought of you so much.  Don’t go away unkindly.  Stay with me for this evening, at any rate.  You can see Beatrice at any time.  It is I who need you most now.”

He looked around at the splendid apartment; he looked at the woman whose fingers, glittering with jewels, rested upon his shoulders.  Then he thought of Beatrice in her shabby black gown and wan little face, and very gently he removed her hands.

“No,” he said, “I do not think that you need me any more than I need you.  This is a caprice of yours.  You know it and I know it.  Is it worth while to play with one another?”