who volunteered
to make the first effort to bring you back."

Mannering turned his head. Apparently he was looking out of the window.

"Her methods," Borrowdean continued, "did not commend themselves to us,
but beggars must not be choosers. Besides, the Duchess was in love with
her own scheme. Such objections as we made were at once overruled."

He paused, but Mannering said nothing. He was still looking out of the
window, though his eyes saw nothing of the street below, or the great
club buildings opposite. A scent of roses, lost now and then in the
salter fragrance of the night breeze sweeping over the marshes, the magic
of a wonderful, white-clad presence, the low words, the sense of a world
apart, a world of speechless beauty.... What empty dreams! A palace built
in a poet's fancy upon a quicksand.

"The Duchess," Borrowdean continued, "undertook to discover from you what
prospects there were, if any, of your return to political life. She took
none of us into her confidence. We none of us knew what means she meant
to employ. She disappeared. She communicated with none of us. We none of
us had the least idea what had become of her. Time went on, and we began
to get a little uneasy. We had a meeting and it was arranged that I
should come down and see you. I came, I saw you, I saw the Duchess! The
situation very soon became clear to me. Instead of the Duchess converting
you, you had very nearly converted the Duchess."

"I can assure you--" Mannering began.

"Let me finish," Borrowdean pleaded. "I realized the situation at a
glance. Your attitude I was not so much surprised at, but the attitude of
the Duchess, I must confess, amazed me. I came to the conclusion that I
had found my way into a forgotten corner of the world, where the lotos
flowers still blossomed, and the sooner I was out of it the better. Now I
think that brings us, Mannering, up to the present time."

Mannering turned from the window, out of which he had been steadfastly
gazing. There was a strained look under his eyes, and little trace of the
tan upon his, cheeks. He had the air of a jaded and a weary man.

"That is all, then," he remarked. "I can still catch my train."

Borrowdean held out his hand.

"No," he said. "It is not all. This explanation I have made for your
sake, Mannering, and it has been a truthful and full one. Now it is my
turn. I have a few words to say to you on my own account."

Mannering paused. There was a note of someth