said he, Arabian, was in
love with her. Probably he was. But if he was in love with her, why
did he never hint at it when they were alone together except by the
expression in his eyes? She asked herself why she was afraid of him,
and the answer she seemed to get was that his reticence frightened her.
There was something in his continued inaction which alarmed her. It was
a silence of conduct which lay like a weight upon her. She felt it now
as he stared at her.

"What do you want with me?"

That was what she longed, and yet was afraid, to say to him. Did he know
how violently she was attracted by him and how fiercely he sometimes
repelled her? No doubt he did. No doubt he knew that at times she
believed him to be horrible, suspected him of nameless things, of
abominable relationships; no doubt he knew that she was degradingly
jealous of him. When his eyes were thus fixed upon her she felt that he
knew everything that was going on in her with which he had to do. Yet he
never spoke of his knowledge.

His reserve almost terrified her. That was the truth.

The dark man with the light eyes brought in tea on a large sliver tray.
She began to drink it hastily.

"You--forgive me for asking--you will not leave London because of this
sad news?" said Arabian.

"Do you mean for America?"

"Yes."

Miss Van Tuyn had not thought of such a possibility till he alluded
to it. She could not, of course, be at her father's funeral. That was
impossible. But suddenly it occurred to her that she had no doubt come
into a very large fortune. There might be business to do. She might have
to cross the Atlantic. At the thought of this possibility her sense of
confusion and almost of mental blackness increased, and yet she realized
more vividly than before the death of her father.

"I don't know. I don't think so. No, thank you. I won't smoke. I must
go. I ought never to have come after receiving such news."

She stood up. He took her hand. His was warm and strong, and a great
deal of her personality seemed to her to be in its clasp--too much
indeed. His body fascinated hers, made her realize in a startling way
that the coldness of which some men had complained had either been
overcome by something that could burn and be consumed, or perhaps had
never existed.

"You will not go to America without telling me?" he said.

"No, no. Of course not."

"You told me first of your sorrow!"

"Why--why did I?" she thought, wondering.

"And