Finally
he came to a standstill before Louise's house and stopped the engine
with deliberate care. Then he rang the bell, and was shown into her
little drawing-room, which seemed to have become a perfect bower of pink
and white lilac.

He sat waiting as if in a dream, unable to decide upon his words, unable
even to sift his thoughts. The one purpose with which he had come, the
one question he designed to ask, was burning in his brain. The minutes
of her absence seemed tragically long. He walked up and down, oppressed
by the perfume of the flowers. The room seemed too small for him. He
longed to throw open all the windows, to escape from the atmosphere, in
which for the first time he seemed to find some faint, enervating
poison.

Then at last the door opened and Louise entered. She came toward him
with a little welcoming smile upon her lips. Her manner was gay, almost
affectionate.

"Have you come to take me for a ride before lunch?" she asked. "Do you
know, I think that I should really like it! We might lunch at Ranelagh
on our way home."

The words stuck in his throat. From where she was, she saw now the
writing on his face. She stopped short.

"What is it?" she exclaimed.

"Ever since I knew you," he said slowly, "there have been odd moments
when I have lived in torture. During the last fortnight, those moments
have become hours. Last night the end came."

"Are you mad, John?" she demanded.

"Perhaps," he replied. "Listen. When I left you last night, I went to
the club in Adelphi Terrace. There was a well-known critic there,
comparing you and Latrobe. On the whole he favored you, but he gave
Latrobe the first place in certain parts. Latrobe, he said, had had more
experience of life. She had had a dozen lovers--you, only one!"

She winced. The glad freshness seemed suddenly to fade from her face.
Her eyes became strained.

"Well?"

"I found Graillot. I cornered him. I asked him for the truth about you.
He put me off with an evasion. I came down here and looked at your
window. It was three o'clock in the morning. I dared not come in. A very
demon of unrest was in my blood. I stopped at a night-club on my way
back. Sophy was there. I asked her plainly to put me out of my agony.
She was like Graillot. She fenced with me. And then--the prince came!"

"The prince was there?" she faltered.

"He came up to the table where Sophy and I were sitting. I think I was
half mad. I poured him a glass of wine and ask