. "There are not many
men in the world who have kissed--even my hand. There are fewer
still--whom I have kissed. I thought that I had been rather kind to
you."

"Kind!" he threw out his arms with a despairing gesture. "You call it
kindness, the drop of magic you pour into a man's veins, the touch of
your body, the breath of your lips vouchsafed for a second, the elixir
of a new life. What is it to you? A caprice! A little dabbling in the
emotions, a device to make a few minutes of the long days pass more
smoothly. Perhaps it's the way in your world, this! You cheat yourself
of a whole-hearted happiness by making physiological experiments,
frittering away the great chance out of sheer curiosity--or something
worse. And we who don't understand the game--we are the victims!"

"Really," she said pleasantly, "you are very eloquent."

"And you," he said, "are----"

Her hand flashed out almost to his lips, long shapely fingers, ablaze
with the dull fire of emeralds.

"Stop," she commanded, "you are not quite yourself this evening. I am
afraid that you will say something which you will regret. Now listen.
You have made a most eloquent attack upon me, but you must admit that it
is a perfect tangle of generalities. Won't you condescend to look me in
the face, leave off vague complaints, and tell me precisely why you have
placed me in the dock and yourself upon the bench? In plain words, mind.
No evasions. I want the truth."

"You shall have it," he answered grimly. "Listen, then. I began at
Thorpe. You were at once rude and kind to me. I was a simple ass, of
course, and you were a mistress in all the arts which go to a man's
undoing. It wasn't an equal fight. I struggled a little, but I thanked
God that I had an excuse to give up my work. I came to London, but the
poison was working. Every morning before you were up, and every night
after dark, I walked round your square--and the days I saw you were the
days that counted."

"Dear me, how interesting!" she interrupted softly. "And to think that I
never knew!"

"I never meant you to know," he declared. "A fool I was from the first,
but never fool enough to misunderstand. When I brought Letty Foulton to
you, I brought her against my will. It was for the child's sake. And you
were angry, and then I saw you again--and you were kind!"

She smiled at him.

"I'm glad you admit that," she said gently. "I thought that I was very
kind indeed. And you repaid me--how?"

"Kind!"