me I think of that poor man.
It does make me frightened."

Laverick escorted his visitor back to the electric brougham which
was waiting before his door.

"A list of stocks purchased on your behalf will reach you by
to-night's post," he promised her. "We shall do our best in your
interests."

He held out his hand, but she seemed in no hurry to let him go.

"You are very kind, Mr. Laverick. I would like to see you again
very soon. You have heard me sing in Samson and Delilah?"

"Not yet, but I am hoping to very shortly."

"To-night," she declared, "you must come to the Opera House. I
leave a box for you at the door. Send me round a note that you
are there, and it is possible that I may see you. It is against
the rules, but for me there are no rules."

Laverick hesitating, she leaned forward and looked into his face.

"You are doing something else?" she protested. "You were, perhaps,
thinking of taking out again the little girl with whom you were
sitting last night?"

"I had half promised--"

"No, no!" she exclaimed, holding his hand tighter. "She is not for
you--that child. She is too young. She knows nothing. Better to
leave her alone. She is not for a man of the world like you. Soon
she would cease to amuse you. You would be dull and she would still
care. Oh, there is so much tragedy in these things, Mr. Laverick--so
much tragedy for the woman! It is she always who suffers. You
will take my advice. You will leave that little girl alone."

Laverick smiled.

"I am afraid," said he, "that I cannot promise that so quickly. You
see, I have not known her long, but she has very few friends and I
think that she would miss me. Perhaps," he added, after a second's
pause, "I care for her too much."

"It is not for you," she answered scornfully, "to care too much.
An Englishman, he cares never enough. A woman to him is something
amusing,--his companion for a little of his spare time, something
to be pleased about, to show off to his friends,--to share, even,
the passion of the moment. But an Englishman he does not care too
much. He never cares enough. He does not know what it is to care
enough."

"Mademoiselle, there may be truth in what you say, and again there
may not. We have the name, I know, of being cold lovers, but at
least we are faithful."

She held up her hand with a little grimace.

"Oh, how I do hate that word!" she exclaimed. "Who is there, indeed,
who wishes that you w