nodded.

"You could have married."

"Why?" she asked, troubled.

"To obtain the means for a musical education."

She gazed at him in amazement, then: "I could go out on the street, too,
as far as that is concerned. It would be no more disgraceful."

"Folk-ways sanction self-sale, when guaranteed by the clergy," he said.
She turned her head and he saw the pure, cold profile against the golden
table-lamp, and he saw something else under the palms beyond--Graylock's
light eyes riveted upon them both.

"You know," he said, under his breath, "that I shall not marry you.
But--would you care to begin your studies again?"

There was a long silence: She remained with face partly averted until
the orchestra ceased. Then she turned and looked at him, and he saw her
lip tremble.

"I had not thought you meant to ask me--that. I do not quite understand
what you mean."

"I care enough for you to wish to help you. May I?"

"I was not sure you cared--enough--"

"Do you--for me?"

"Before I say that I do--care for you--" she began, tremulously--"tell
me that I have nothing to fear--"

Neither spoke. Over her shoulder Drene stared at the distant man who
stared back at him.

Presently his eyes reverted to hers, absently studying the childlike
beauty of her.

"I'm going to tell you something," he said. "Love is no more wonderful
than hate, no more perfect, no more eternal. And it is less fierce, and
not as strong."

"What!" she whispered, bewildered at the sinister change in him.

"And I want to tell you another thing. I am alone in the world. What I
have, I have devised to you--in case I step out--suddenly--"

He paused, hesitated, then:

"Also I desire you to hear something else," he went on. "This is the
proper time for you to hear it, I think--now--to-night--"

He lifted his blazing eyes and looked at the other man.

"There was a woman," he said--"She happened to be my wife. Also there
was my closest friend: and myself. The comedy was cast. Afterward
she died--abroad. I believe he was there at the time--Kept up a
semblance--But he never married her.... And I do not intend to
marry--you."

After a moment: "And that," she whispered, "is why you once said to me
that I should have let you alone."

"Did I say that to you?"

"Yes." She looked up at him, straight into his eyes: "But if you care
for me--I do not regret that I did not let you alone."

"I shall not marry you."

Her lip trembled but she smiled.