you?"

"May I come in, or is it too late?"

She looked into his face, and the ready assent died away upon her lips.
He noticed her hesitation, but remained silent.

"Of course," she said, slowly. "What have you done with your friends?"

"They have gone home," he answered, shortly. "I came on here. I wanted
to see you."

They passed into the house and to her little sitting-room, where a couch
was drawn up before a tiny fire of cedar wood, and her maid was waiting.
Emily dismissed her almost at once, and, throwing herself down, lighted
a cigarette.

"Sit down, my friend, and smoke," she said. "I will tell you, if you
like, about my travels, and then I must hear about the novel."

But Douglas came over and stood by her side. His eyes were burning with
fire, and his voice was tremulous with emotion as he replied.

"Afterwards. I have something else to say to you first."

CHAPTER XXXIII

A MISUNDERSTANDING

The cigarette dropped from her fingers; she sat up. Then he saw that
she too was agitated. There was an unusual spot of colour in her
cheeks, her breathing was certainly less regular. The variance from her
habitual placidity encouraged him. He scarcely hesitated for a moment.

"You'll think I'm insane," he began. "I don't care. There's Drexley,
heartbroken, that other poor wretch mad, and others that they have told
me of. Do you know that these men are your victims, Emily de Reuss?"

"My--victims?"

"Ay. Now listen. I will absolve you from blame. I will say that the
fault was theirs, that your kindness was meant for kindness and nothing
else, a proof, if you will, of a generous nature. What does it matter?
These men have poured out their lives upon the altar of your vanity.
They have given you their love, and you have given them--nothing. I
honestly believe nothing. I will believe that theirs was the fault,
that you are not heartless nor vain nor indifferent. Only I am not
going to be as these men, Emily. I love you--no one but you, you
always, and you shall be mine, or I will leave your doors for ever, and
crush down every thought of you. A curse upon friendship and such
rubbish. You are a beautiful woman, far above me--but at least I am a
man--and I love you--and I will have you for my own or no other woman."

He bent down, snatched hold of her hands and drew her face towards his.
His heart leaped in quick, fierce beats. At least she was not
indifferent. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes marvell