one may change. We are all incalculable."

"Give me some tea now. And let me tell you my news."

She sat down again, but her luminous eyes were still fixed on him, and
there was an almost terrified expression in them.

"You haven't seen--him?" she asked.

"Yes."

"You have! I felt it! He has said something about me, something
horrible!"

"Adela, do you really think I would take an opinion of you from a
blackguard like that?"

"Please tell me everything," she said.

She looked painfully agitated, and something in her agitation made him
feel very tender, for it gave her in his eyes a strange semblance of
youthfulness. Yes, despite all she had done, all the years she had lived
through, there was something youthful in her still. Perhaps it was that
which persistently held out hands to youth! The thought struck him and
the tenderness was lessened in his eyes.

"Seymour, you are hiding something from me," she said.

"Adela, give me a little time! I am going to tell you my news."

"Yes, yes, please do!"

"I want my tea," he said, with a smile.

"Oh, I beg your pardon!"

"How young you are!" he said.

"Young! How can you say such a thing?"

"Now really, Adela! As if I could ever be sarcastic with you!"

"That remark could only be sarcastic."

He sipped his tea.

"No; you will always have youth in you. It is undying. It makes half
your charm, my dear. And perhaps--"

"Yes?"

"Well, perhaps it has caused most of the trouble in your life."

She looked down.

"Our best gifts have their--what shall I say--their shady side, I
suppose. And we seem to have to pay very often for what are thought of
as gifts. But now I must tell you."

"Yes."

And then he began to relate to her, swiftly although he was old, the
events of his mission. She listened, and while she listened she sat very
still. She had looked up. Her eyes were fixed upon him. Presently
he reached the point in his narrative where Arabian walked into Dick
Garstin's studio. Then she moved. She seemed suddenly seized with an
uncontrollable restlessness. He went on without looking at her, but he
heard her movements, the rustle of her gown, the touch of her hand on a
sofa cushion, on the tea-table, the chink of moved china, touching other
china. And two or three times he heard the faint sound of her breathing.
He knew she was suffering intensely, and he believed it was because of
the haunting, inexorable remembrance of the enticement that abominabl