ondition--and gladly," she replied, with an odd,
pale little smile, "that you tell me where you're going this morning. I
know it must seem horrid in me to ask, but--but--oh, Ivor, it _isn't_
horrid, really. You wouldn't think it horrid if you could understand."

"I'm going to Paris," I answered, beginning to feel as if I had a cold
potato where my heart ought to be. "I am obliged to go, on business."

"You didn't say anything about Paris in your letter this morning, when
you told me you couldn't come to the Duchess's," said Di, looking like a
beautiful, unhappy child, her eyes big and appealing, her mouth proud.
"You only mentioned 'an urgent engagement which you'd forgotten.'"

"I thought that would be enough to explain, in a hurry," I told her,
lamely.

"So it was--so it would have been," she faltered, "if it hadn't been
for--what we said last night about--Paris. And then--I can't explain to
you, Ivor, any more than it seems you can to me. But I did hear you
meant to go there, and--after our talk, I couldn't believe it. I didn't
come to the station to find you; I came because I was perfectly sure I
wouldn't find you, and wanted to prove that I hadn't found you.
Yet--you're here."

"And, though I am here, you will trust me just the same," I said, as
firmly as I could.

"Of course. I'll trust you, if--"

"If what?"

"If you'll tell me just one little, tiny thing: that you're not going to
see Maxine de Renzie."

"I may see her," I admitted.

"But--but at least, you're not going on purpose?"

This drove me into a corner. Without being disloyal to the Foreign
Secretary, I could not deny all personal desire to meet Maxine. Yet to
what suspicion was I not laying myself open in confessing that I
deliberately intended to see her, having sworn by all things a man does
swear by when he wishes to please a girl, that I didn't wish to see
Maxine, and would not see Maxine?

"You said you'd trust me, Di," I reminded her. "For Heaven's sake don't
break that promise."

"But--if you're breaking a promise to me?"

"A promise?"

"Worse, then! Because I didn't ask you to promise. I had too much faith
in you for that. I believed you when you said you didn't care
for--anyone but me. I've told Lisa. It doesn't matter our speaking like
this before her. I asked you to wait for my promise for a little while,
until I could be quite sure you didn't think of Miss de Renzie as--some
people fancied you did. If you wanted to see he