itself. Let her have her last fling.

He rose as she entered, and for the moment his heart failed him. He had
never seen even her look more like marble, and she did not meet his eyes
as she crossed the room and seated herself so that her profile would be
toward him as she talked. As she had chosen the large high-backed chair,
Clavering, knowing her love of comfort, hoped that her discourse was to
be brief.

"When I finish," she said in her low vital voice, "I shall leave the room
immediately and I must have your word that you will make no attempt to
detain me, and that you will go at once and not return until Monday
afternoon. I shall not wish to see you again until you have had time to
deliberate calmly on what I shall tell you. I do not want any
embarrassed protests from a gallant gentleman--whose confusion of mind is
second only to his chivalrous dismay. Have I your word?"

"It never takes me long to make up my mind----"

"That may be, but I intend to save you from an embarrassing situation.
You need not come on Monday unless you wish. You may write--or, for that
matter, if I do not hear from you on Monday by four I shall
understand----"

"I--for God's sake, Mary----"

"You must do as I say--this time. And--and--you could not overcome me
again tonight. I can turn myself to stone when I choose."

"Oh!" He ground his teeth. His own nerves might be lulled for the
moment, but he had anticipated reaction when she finished her story.
"Very well--but it is for the last time, my dear. And why Monday? Why
not this afternoon?"

"You must sleep and write your column, is it not so? Moreover--and
deliberately--I am lunching with Mrs. Ruyler and dining at the
Lawrences'."

"Very well. Monday, then. You have set the stage. If I must be a
puppet for once in my life, so be it. But, I repeat, it's for the last
time. Now, for heaven's sake, go ahead and get it off your chest."

"And you will let me go without a word? Otherwise I shall not speak--and
I'll leave the room again and not return."

"Very well. I promise."

"I told part of it the other day at Mrs. Oglethorpe's luncheon--I had
told her before. But there's so much else. I hardly know how to begin
with you, and I have not the habit of talking about myself. But I
suppose I should begin at the beginning."

"It is one of the formulae."

"It is the most difficult of all--that beginning." And although she had
announced the torpidity of her n