was too late?"

He had no answer. He tried to make one. His lips parted; then, in
silence, he turned away.

"It might have made your mind easier," she said quietly, without tone
of blame, "but it wouldn't have been fair."

He twisted back. "There's no need for my mind to be made easier,"
he said hardly. "I've treated you fairly from the beginning to the
end. I warned you in the first instance; I told you to have no truck
with me. I sent you away. You came back. I didn't ask you to come
back."

Janet's words flashed across Sally's memory; the words she had said
when they were talking over the bangle: "I don't care what you say
about that letter, the letter's nothing! It's the gift that's the
thing. That's the song of sex if you like, and whether you return
it, or whether you don't, you'll answer it, as he means you to."

It was on the edge of her mind to repeat them then to him, but she
refrained. It was better then, at that moment, to let him think that
he had no cause to blame himself.

"No, my mind's perfectly easy," he added. "Thank God, I don't pose
for a paragon; I've got the beast in me all right, but I've treated
you square--absolutely square."

Her fingers clutched. To win her desires she must let him think so.
And perhaps he had treated her square; she supposed he had.

"Then help me not to be lonely now," she begged. She could see the
wave of repulsion beat across his face, but even that did not deter
her. "Oh, I don't mean that you should come back and live with me,"
she went on. "It isn't for that. You can't--you surely can't hate
me as much as all that." It was not in her knowledge to realize that
he must love her, greater than he had ever loved, if she were to win.
To the woman needing the child it is the child alone; to the man,
the child is only the child when it is his.

"I don't hate you," he said. He picked up his hat from the settee,
and her heart dropped to a leaden weight. "You seem to harp on that.
But what you ask, you surely must realize is frankly impossible. I
don't wish to be responsible for a child."

"You needn't be responsible," she said eagerly. "You need never see
it. You've been generous enough to me in what you've given me. I
shan't ask for a penny more--I shan't use the child to extract money
from you. You'll never hear from me again. After all, you have loved
me," she said piteously. "You did love me once."

He turned angrily away. "My God!" he exclaimed. "You talk as