s not attract you. No! I know that it does
not. What are you going to do, then?"

"I have no idea," he answered. "Won't you direct me?"

"Yes, I will," she answered, "if you will pay my price."

He looked at her more intently. He himself had been attaching no
particular importance to this conversation, but he was suddenly
conscious that it was not so with the woman at his side. Her eyes were
shining at him, soft and full and sweet; her beautiful bosom was rising
and falling quickly; there had come to her something which even he was
forced to recognize, that curious and voluptuous abandonment which a
woman rarely permits herself, and can never assume. He was a little
bewildered. His speech lost for a moment its cold precision.

"Your price?" he repeated. "I--I am stupid. I'm afraid I don't
understand."

"Marry me," she whispered in his ear, "and I will take you a little
further into life than you could ever go alone You don't care for me, of
course--but you shall. You don't understand this world, Wingrave, or how
to make the best of it. I do! Let me be your guide!"

Wingrave looked at her in grave astonishment.

"You are not by any chance--in earnest?" he asked.

"You know very well that I am," she answered swiftly. "And yet you
hesitate! What is it that you are afraid of? Don't you like to give up
your liberty? We need not marry unless you choose. That is only a matter
of form nowadays at any rate. I have a hundred chaperons to choose from.
Society expects strange things from me. It is your companionship I want.
Your money is fascinating, of course. I should like to see you spend it,
to spend it with both hands. Don't be afraid that we should be talked
about. I am not Lady Ruth! I am Emily, Marchioness of Westchester, and I
live and choose my friends as I please; will you be chief amongst them?
Hush!"

For Wingrave it was providential. The loud chorus which had heralded
the upraising of the curtain died away. Melba's first few notes were
floating through the house. Silence was a necessity. The low passion of
the music rippled from the stage, through the senses and into the hearts
of many of the listeners. But Wingrave listened silent and unmoved. He
was even unconscious that the woman by his side was watching him half
anxiously every now and then.

The curtain descended amidst a thunder of applause. Wingrave turned
slowly towards his companion. And then there came a respite--a knock at
the door.

The March