detaining hand on her sister-in-law's
arm.

"Dear Christiane, may I leave Mr. Durham in your charge for two
minutes? I have promised Nannie that she shall see the boy put to
bed."

Madame de Treymes made no audible response to this request, but when
the door had closed on the other ladies she said, looking quietly at
Durham: "I don't think that, in this house, your time will hang so
heavy that you need my help in supporting it."

Durham met her glance frankly. "It was not for that reason that
Madame de Malrive asked you to remain with me."

"Why, then? Surely not in the interest of preserving appearances,
since she is safely upstairs with your sister?"

"No; but simply because I asked her to. I told her I wanted to speak
to you."

"How you arrange things! And what reason can you have for wanting to
speak to me?"

He paused for a moment. "Can't you imagine? The desire to thank you
for what you have done."

She stirred restlessly, turning to adjust her hat before the glass
above the mantelpiece.

"Oh, as for what I have done--!"

"Don't speak as if you regretted it," he interposed.

She turned back to him with a flash of laughter lighting up the
haggardness of her face. "Regret working for the happiness of two
such excellent persons? Can't you fancy what a charming change it is
for me to do something so innocent and beneficent?"

He moved across the room and went up to her, drawing down the hand
which still flitted experimentally about her hat.

"Don't talk in that way, however much one of the persons of whom you
speak may have deserved it."

"One of the persons? Do you mean me?"

He released her hand, but continued to face her resolutely. "I mean
myself, as you know. You have been generous--extraordinarily
generous."

"Ah, but I was doing good in a good cause. You have made me see that
there is a distinction."

He flushed to the forehead. "I am here to let you say whatever you
choose to me."

"Whatever I choose?" She made a slight gesture of deprecation. "Has
it never occurred to you that I may conceivably choose to say
nothing?"

Durham paused, conscious of the increasing difficulty of the
advance. She met him, parried him, at every turn: he had to take his
baffled purpose back to another point of attack.

"Quite conceivably," he said: "so much so that I am aware I must
make the most of this opportunity, because I am not likely to get
another."

"But what remains of your opportunity, if