vellous. His voice, when he spoke, seemed scarcely to rise above a
whisper.

"For always?" he surmised--"it would be rest at least. You are not an
easy task-mistress, Emily."

Her momentary fear of him evaporated almost as quickly as it had been
conceived. She stood with her hand on the bell. "I think," she said,
"that you had better go to your club."

He held out a protesting hand--tamed at any rate for the moment.

"You were speaking of Jesson," he said. "Well?"

She moved her finger from the bell, conscious that the crisis was past.
She might yet score a victory.

"Yes, I was speaking of Jesson," she continued, lazily. "As you
remark--none too politely, by-the-bye--he has decided to do without my
help. I have no objection to that. I admire independence in a man.
Yet when he spoke to me from his point of view I am afraid that I was
rude. We parted, at any rate, abruptly. I have been thinking it over
and I am sorry for it. I should like to let him know that on the whole
I approve of his intention."

"Write and tell him to come and see you then," Drexley said, gruffly.
"He can't refuse--poor devil."

The beautifully-shaped eyebrows of the Countess de Reuss were a trifle
uplifted. Yet she smiled faintly.

"No," she said, "he could not refuse. But it is not quite what I want.
If I write to him he will imagine many things."

"What do you want me to do?" he asked brusquely.

"You see him often at the club?"

"Yes."

"Go there to-night. Say that we have spoken of him; hint that this
absolute withdrawal from my house must appear ungrateful--has seemed so
to me. I shall be at home alone a week to-night. Do you understand?"

"I understand, at least, that I am not to come and see you a week
to-night," he answered with a harsh laugh.

"That is quite true, my friend," she said, "but what of it? You have
no special claim, have you, to monopolise my society?--you nor any man.
You are all my friends."

There was a knock at the door--a maid entered.

"Her ladyship will excuse me," she said, "but she is dining at
Dowchester House to-night at eight o'clock."

Emily rose and held out her hand to Drexley.

"Quite right, Marie," she said. "I see that I must hurry. You will
remember, my friend."

"I will remember," he answered quietly.

He walked eastwards across the park, not briskly as a strong man with
the joy of living in his veins, but with slow, dejected footsteps, his
great shoulders bent, his heart heavy.