“All?” asked Orion unlocking the door.

“Certainly, all,” she repeated uneasily.  “What I meant to ask—­whether I ever know it or not—­it does not matter.—­It would be better perhaps-yes, that is all.—­Let me go.”

But he did not obey her.

“Ask,” he said kindly.  “I will answer you gladly.”

“Gladly?” she retorted, with an incredulous shrug.  “In point of fact you ought to feel uncomfortable whenever you see me; but things do not always turn out as they ought, in Memphis or in the world; for what do you men care what becomes of a poor girl like me?  Do not imagine that I mean to reproach you; God forbid!  I do not even owe you a grudge.  If anyone can live such a thing down I can.  Do not you think so?  Everything is admirably arranged for me; I cannot fail to do well.  I am very rich, and not ugly, and I shall have a hundred suitors yet.  Oh, I am a most enviable creature!  I have had one lover already, and the next will be more faithful, at any rate, and not throw me over so ruthlessly as the first.—­Do not you think so?”

“I hope so,” said Oriole gravely.  “Bitter as the cup is that you offer me to drink. . .”

“Well?”

“I can only repeat that I must even drink it, since the fault was mine.  Nothing would so truly gladden me as to be able to atone in some degree for my sin against you.”

“Oh dear no!” she scornfully threw in.  “Our hopes shall not be fixed so high as that!  All is at an end between us, and if you ever were anything to me, you are nothing to me now—­absolutely nothing.  One hour in the past we had in common; it was short indeed, but to me—­would you believe it?—­a very great matter.  It aged the young creature, whom you, but yesterday, still regarded as a mere child—­that much I know—­with amazing rapidity; aye, and made a worse woman of her than you can fancy.”

“That indeed would grieve me to the bottom of my soul,” replied Orion.  “There is, I know, no excuse for my conduct.  Still, as you yourself know, our mothers’ wish in the first instance. . .”

“Destined us for each other, you would say.  Quite true!—­And it was all to please Dame Neforis that you put your arms round me, under the acacias, and called me your own, your all, your darling, your rose-bud?  Was that—­and this is exactly what I want to ask you, what I insist on knowing—­was that all a lie—­or did you, at any rate, in that brief moment, under the trees, love me with all your heart—­love me as now you love—­I cannot name her—­that other?—­The truth, Orion, the whole truth, on your oath!”