ptation. After all, had not she done her part?
Had not she done all that anyone could expect from her, from any woman
under the existing circumstances? Had not she done even much more than
many women could have brought themselves to do? Beryl had not been very
kind to her. Beryl was really the enemy of her happiness, of her poor
little attempt after happiness. And yet she had taken a risk in order
to try and save Beryl from danger. And the girl would not be saved.
Headstrong, wilful, embittered, she refused to be saved. Then why not
let her go? She had been warned. She chose to defy the warning. That was
not Lady Sellingworth's fault.

"I've done enough! I've done all I can do."

She said this to herself as she sat and looked at the girl.

"I can't do any more!"

Miss Van Tuyn reached out for her coat and began very deliberately to
put it on. Then she picked up the muff in which the letter lay hidden.

"Well, good night, Adela!"

Lady Sellingworth got up slowly.

"I promise that I will not show your letter. So don't be afraid."

"I'm not afraid."

Miss Van Tuyn held out her hand.

"No doubt you have your reasons for doing what you have done. I don't
pretend to understand them. And I don't understand you. But women are
often incomprehensible to me. Perhaps that is why I usually prefer men.
They don't plunge you in subtleties. They let you understand things."

"Ah!" exclaimed Lady Sellingworth.

And there was a passion of acute irony in the exclamation.

"What's the matter?" said Miss Van Tuyn, looking surprised, almost
startled.

But Lady Sellingworth did not tell her.

"If you will go like this, Beryl--go!" she said. "I cannot force you to
do, or not to do, anything. But"--she laid a hand on the girl's arm and
pressed it till her hand almost hurt Beryl--"but I tell you that you are
in danger, in great danger. I dread to think of what may be in store for
you."

Something in the grasp of her hand, in her manner, in her eyes,
impressed Miss Van Tuyn in spite of herself. Again fear, a fear
mysterious and cold, crept in her. Garstin had warned her in his
way. Now Adela was warning her. And she remembered that other warning
whispered by something within herself. She stood still looking into Lady
Sellingworth's eyes. Then she looked down. She seemed to be considering
something. At last she looked up again and said:

"You said to me to-night that you did not know Mr. Arabian--now."

"I don't know him."