l, not simply in temper, but even in intellect.

"For a woman there is sometimes only one possibility if she is to be
saved from ignominy, Serge."

"So you think that Olga Mayne must become the wife of Vernon, who is
a--"

"Coward. Yes."

At the word coward, Sergius seemed startled out of his hard calm. He
looked swiftly and searchingly at Anthony.

"Why do you say coward?" he asked sharply. "I was not going to use that
word."

Anthony was obviously disconcerted.

"It came to me," he said hurriedly.

"Why?"

"Any man that brings a girl to the dust is a coward."

"Ah--that's not what you meant," Sergius said.

Anthony stole a glance at the clock. The hand crawled slowly over the
quarter of an hour past ten.

"No, it was not," he said slowly.

IV

Sergius got up from his chair and stood by the fire. He was obviously
becoming engrossed by the conversation. Anthony could at least notice
this with thankfulness.

"Anthony, I see you've got a fresh knowledge of Vernon since I was with
you yesterday," Sergius continued; "some new knowledge of his nature."

"Perhaps I have."

"How did you get it?"

"Does that matter?"

"You have heard of something about him?"

"No."

"You have seen him, then; I say, you have seen him?"

Anthony hesitated. He pushed the champagne bottle over towards Sergius.
It had been placed on a little table near the fireplace.

"No; I don't want to drink. Why on earth don't you answer me, Anthony?"

"I have always felt that Vernon was a coward. His conduct to you shows
it. He was--or seemed--your friend. He saw you deeply in love with
this--with Olga. He chose to ruin her after he knew of your love. Who
but a coward could act in such a way?"

An expression of dark impatience came into the eyes of Sergius.

"You are confusing treachery and cowardice, and you are doing it
untruthfully. You have seen Vernon."

Anthony thought for a moment, and then said:

"Yes, I have."

"By chance, of course. Why did you speak to him?"

"I thought I would."

Sergius was obviously disturbed and surprised. The deeply emotional, yet
rigid calm in which he had been enveloped all the evening was broken at
last. A slight excitement, a distinct surface irritation, woke in him.
Anthony felt an odd sense of relief as he observed it. For the
constraint of Sergius had begun to weigh upon him like a heavy burden
and to move him to an indefinable dread.

"I wonder you didn't cut him," Sergius s