d his head silently. Her eyes glittered more
coldly. The madness that every human being may have once was upon her.
Such a madness is destructive, and here was something more vulnerable
than herself.

'Did he tell you how I pressed him?' There was no red tide this time,
nor ever again whilst the interview lasted. To bow in affirmation was
insufficient; with an effort he answered:

'I understood so.' She answered with an icy sarcasm:

'You understood so! Oh, I don't doubt he embellished the record with
some of his own pleasantries. But you understood it; and that is
sufficient.' After a pause she went on:

'Did he tell you that he had refused me?'

'Yes!' Harold knew now that he was under the torture, and that there was
no refusing. She went on, with a light laugh, which wrung his heart even
more than her pain had done . . . Stephen to laugh like that!

'And I have no doubt that he embellished that too, with some of his fine
masculine witticisms. I understood myself that he was offended at my
asking him. I understood it quite well; he told me so!' Then with
feminine intuition she went on:

'I dare say that before he was done he said something kindly of the poor
little thing that loved him; that loved him so much, and that she had to
break down all the bounds of modesty and decorum that had made the women
of her house honoured for a thousand years! And you listened to him
whilst he spoke! Oh-h-h!' she quivered with her white-hot anger, as the
fierce heat in the heart of a furnace quivers. But her voice was cold
again as she went on:

'But who could help loving him? Girls always did. It was such a beastly
nuisance! You "understood" all that, I dare say; though perhaps he did
not put it in such plain words!' Then the scorn, which up to now had
been imprisoned, turned on him; and he felt as though some hose of
deathly chill was being played upon him.

'And yet you, knowing that only yesterday, he had refused me--refused my
pressing request that he should marry me, come to me hot-foot in the
early morning and ask me to be your wife. I thought such things did not
take place; that men were more honourable, or more considerate, or more
merciful! Or at least I used to think so; till yesterday. No! till to-
day. Yesterday's doings were my own doings, and I had to bear the
penalty of them myself. I had come here to fight out by myself the
battle of my shame . . . '

Here Harold interrupted her.