me. There is something. I know there is."

"Yes. But it only concerns me."

"Seymour, I don't believe that!"

He was silent, looking at her with the old dog's eyes. But now there was
something else in them besides faithfulness.

"Well, Adela," he said at last, "I believe very much in absolute
sincerity between real friends. But I suppose friendship must be very
real indeed to stand absolute sincerity. Don't you think so?"

"Yes, I do. But our friendship is as real as any friendship can be, I
think."

"Yes, but on my side it is mixed up, it has always been mixed up, with
something else."

"Yes, I know," she said in a low voice.

"And besides I'm afraid, if I speak quite frankly, I shall hurt you, my
dear!"

"Then--hurt me, Seymour!"

"Shall I? Can I do that?"

"Be frank with me. I have been very frank with you. I have told _you_."

"Yes, indeed. You have been nobly, gloriously frank. Well, then--that
horrible fellow did say something which I haven't told you, something
that, I confess it, has upset me."

"What was it?" she said, still in the low voice, and bending her small
head a little like one expecting punishment.

"He alluded to a friend of yours. He mentioned that nice boy I met here,
young Craven?"

"Yes?"

"I really can't get what he said over my lips, Adela."

"I know what he said. You needn't tell me."

The were both silent for a minute. Then she came close to him.

"Seymour, perhaps you want to ask me a question about Mr. Craven.
But--don't! You needn't. I have done, absolutely done, with all that
side of my life which you hate. A part of my nature has persecuted me.
It has often led me into follies and worse, as you know. But I have
done with it. Indeed, indeed I can answer for myself. I wouldn't dare to
speak like this to you, the soul of sincerity, if I couldn't. But I'll
prove it to you. Seymour, you know what I am. I dare say you have always
known. But the other night I told you myself."

"Yes."

"If I hadn't I shouldn't dare now to ask you what I am going to ask you.
Is it possible that you still love me enough to care to be more than the
friend you have always been to me?"

"Do you mean--"

He paused.

"Yes," she said.

"I ask nothing more of life than that, Adela."

"Nor do I, dear Seymour."

CHAPTER XVII

That evening Miss Van Tuyn learnt through the telephone from Lady
Sellingworth what had happened in Dick Garstin's studio during the
previous night. On th