e did not think of the insult. He was aware of nothing but the desire
that she should smile gayly and admiringly at him again as she used to,
making him feel Jovian.

"I'm going to New York on Thursday," he said. "On Friday evening you
shall have the pardon. Will you be at the opera Friday evening?"

She hesitated. She had not been to the opera yet. She could not bear the
publicity of that blazing circle, but she had kept her box. After all,
she thought, she could sit in the back of it, and music was one of the
greatest of her pleasures.

"Will you join me there?" she said.

"It will be like old times."

"Not quite," she answered.

Still with his hand on the knob of the door, as if he were just going
to open it for her, he detained her, trying to make her talk, asking her
about her friends, her work, her health; trying to hit upon the master
key to her mind, and at last, for he was a man of long experience, he
found it.

"And that damned crook who prosecuted your case," he said. "Do you ever
see him?"

She shook her head.

"I prefer not even to think of him," she replied, and this time she made
a gesture that he should open the door. Instead he stepped in front of
it. He had waked her; he had her attention at last.

"Naturally, naturally," he said, "but I wish you would think of him for
a minute. I'm in rather a fix about that fellow."

She longed to know what the fix was, but she did not dare hear. She said
softly, "Please don't make me think of him, Stephen. I'd really rather
not."

"But you must listen, Lydia. Help me. I don't know what I ought to do. I
have it in my power to ruin that man. Shall I?"

There was a pause. Albee heard her long breaths trembling as she drew
them. He thought to himself that his knowledge of her had not gone
astray. She had hated that man, and whatever else had changed in her,
that hadn't. She suddenly came to life and tried to open the door for
herself.

"I must go," she said. He did not move.

"You know," he said, speaking quickly, "that after your trial he went
to pieces, resigned his position, took to drinking again, tried to make
his way in New York. He was nearly down and out for a time there."

He watched her. A smile, a terrible smile, began to curve the corners of
her mouth. He went on:

"I couldn't be exactly sorry for his bad luck. In fact, to be candid, I
gave him a kick or two when I had the chance. But now he's pulled
himself out. He's worked like a dog