and he determined to continue the experience just as any other young
man would. Evelyn had denied herself to him in Italy for some
strange reason; whatever that reason was it had been overcome, and
once she yielded herself she was glorious. What happened before
would happen again, and if things did not turn out as pleasantly as
he hoped they would--that is to say, if she would not remain in the
opera company, well, the fault would not be with him. She sang very
well, though not as well as Owen thought; and he went upstairs to
dress for dinner, thinking how pleasant it was to live in Berkeley
Square.

They were dining together in a restaurant, and as she came forward to
meet him he said to himself, "She looks like accepting the
engagement." And when he spoke about it to her he only reminded her
that by returning to the stage she would be able to make more money
for her poor people, for he felt it were better not to argue. To
take her hand and tell her that it was beautiful was much more in his
line, to put his arm about her when they drove back together in the
hansom, and speak to her of the cottage at Reading--this he could do
very well; and he continued to inflame her senses until she withdrew
herself from his arm, and he feared that he was compromising his
chance of seeing her on the morrow.

"But you will come to the park, won't you? Remember, it is our last
day together."

"Not the last," she said, "the last but one. Yes, I will see you
to-morrow. Now goodbye."

"May I not go upstairs with you?"

"No, Ulick, I cannot bring you up to my flat; it is too late."

"Then walk a little way."

"But if I were to accept that engagement do you think I could remain
a Catholic?"

Ulick could see no difficulty, and begged of her to explain.

His question was not answered until they had passed many lamp-posts,
and then as they retraced their steps she said:

"Travelling about with an opera company do you think I could go to
Mass, above all to Communion?"

"But you'll be on tour; nobody will know."

"What shall I do when I return to London?"

"Why look so far ahead?"

"All my friends know that I go to Mass."

"But you can go to Mass all the same and communicate."

"But if you were my lover?"

"Would that make any difference?"

"Of course it would make a difference if I were to continue to go to
Mass and communicate; I should be committing a sacrilege. You cannot
ask me to do that."

Ulick did not like t