pressed her hand softly.

"You are not one of those who are afraid," he said. "You do what you
choose--even at night."

She thought of the episode in Shaftesbury Avenue.

"Then you--you--"

"But I do not need to take a shilling from a lady!"

"You didn't know me that night!" she said defiantly.

"Ah, but when I heard you speak in the studio I knew!"

"And you follow women like that at night!"

She tried to draw away her hand, but he would not let her.

"You drew me after you--not knowing. It was what they call occult."

"Then why did you go away?"

"I felt that I had been wrong, that you didn't wish me to speak to you."

"Do you mean when I--that you suspected what I was?"

"Something said to me, 'This is a lady. She does strange things, she is
not like others, but she is a lady. Go away.'"

"And in the studio--"

"When you spoke I knew."

She felt degraded. She could not explain. And she felt confused. She
did not understand this man. His curious reticence that night, after his
audacity, was inexplicable to her. What could he think of her? What must
he think?

"I was going out that night to dine in a restaurant in Soho with some
friends," she said, trying to speak very naturally. "I wanted some fresh
air, so I walked."

"Why not? I beg you to forgive me for my rudeness. I feel very ashamed
of it now. I have learnt in all these days to respect you very much."

His voice sounded so earnest, so sincere, that she felt suddenly a sense
of relief. After all, he had always treated her with respect. He had
never been impertinent, or even really audacious, and yet he had always
known that she had wanted to meet him, that she had meant to meet him!
He had never taken advantage of that knowledge. If he were really what
Dick Garstin said he was, surely he would have acted differently.

"Do you really respect me?" she said.

"Yes. Have I not shown it in all these days? Have I ever done anything a
lady could object to?"

"No."

Her hand still lay in his, and his touch had aroused in her that strange
and intense desire to belong to him which seemed a desire entirely of
the body, something with which the mind had little or nothing to do.

"Are you evil?" her eyes were asking him.

And his eyes, looking straight down into hers, seemed steadily and
simply to deny it.

"Do you believe the lie of Dick Garstin?" they said to her.

And she no longer knew whether she believed it or not.

He drew a little n