rie knew men somewhat, but she
still cherished the feminine belief that jealousy is love, whereas it is
only injured pride. She took a step toward him. "Walter, I am sorry. Do
you hate me?" She had dropped the familiar "thou."

Stewart crossed the room until only Peter's table and lamp stood between
them.

"I didn't mean to be brutal," he said, rather largely, entirely
conscious of his own magnanimity. "It was pretty bad up there and I
know it. I don't hate you, of course. That's hardly possible
after--everything."

"You--would take me back?"

"No. It's over, Marie. I wanted to know where you were, that's all; to
see that you were comfortable and not frightened. You're a silly child
to think of the police."

Marie put a hand to her throat.

"It is the American, of course."

"Yes."

She staggered a trifle, recovered, threw up her head. "Then I wish I had
killed her!"

No man ever violently resents the passionate hate of one woman for her
rival in his affections. Stewart, finding the situation in hand and
Marie only feebly formidable, was rather amused and flattered by the
honest fury in her voice. The mouse was under his paw; he would play a
bit. "You'll get over feeling that way, kid. You don't really love me."

"You were my God, that is all."

"Will you let me help you--money, I mean?"

"Keep it for her."

"Peter will be here in a minute." He bent over the table and eyed her
with his old, half-bullying, half-playful manner. "Come round here and
kiss me for old times."

"No!"

"Come."

She stood stubbornly still, and Stewart, still smiling, took a step or
two toward her. Then he stopped, ceased smiling, drew himself up.

"You are quite right and I'm a rotter." Marie's English did not
comprehend "rotter," but she knew the tone. "Listen, Marie, I've told
the other girl, and there's a chance for me, anyhow. Some day she may
marry me. She asked me to see you."

"I do not wish her pity."

"You are wasting your life here. You cannot marry, you say, without a
dot. There is a chance in America for a clever girl. You are clever,
little Marie. The first money I can spare I'll send you--if you'll take
it. It's all I can do."

This was a new Stewart, a man she had never known. Marie recoiled from
him, eyed him nervously, sought in her childish mind for an explanation.
When at last she understood that he was sincere, she broke down.
Stewart, playing a new part and raw in it, found the situation
irritati