over her. His plan was to match the forces
of her brain with superior, with overwhelming forces.

He continued coldly. "I'm not satisfied with the present arrangement any
more than you are. If you'll stay with me you shall live where you
choose; only don't choose Park Lane, for I can't afford it. I'll give
you any mortal thing I _can_ afford."

"You think you can give me what Robert Lucy's giving me?"

"I can give you a home, Kitty, as long as you'll live in it. I can give
you the advantages of marriage without its drawbacks. You won't be tied
to me a minute longer than you like. Whereas you can't leave Lucy
without a scandal."

"You think that a safe arrangement, do you? I can leave you when I want
to."

"You can leave me any day. So the chances are that you won't want to."

"And when you're tired of me?"

[Illustration: "'You won't be tied to me a minute longer than you
like.'"]

"That's it. I shan't be tired of you. I've a different feeling for you
from any I've ever had for any other woman, for the simple reason that
you're a different woman every time I see you. That's the secret of
your fascination. Didn't you know it?"

She shook her head, but she was not attending to him.

"If you don't know it there's no harm in telling you that I'm very fond
of you."

"What earthly use is it, Wilfrid, being fond of me, as long as I'm not
fond of you?"

Ah, that was a mistake. He was on perilous ground. She was strong there.
She matched his bloodless, unblushing candour with her throbbing,
passionate sincerity.

"That's all the better," he said. "It wouldn't pay you, Kitty, to be
fond of me. If I thought you were fond of me to-day it would leave me
with nothing to look forward to to-morrow. If you were as fond of me as
you are of Lucy, it would bore me horribly. What's more, it would bore
you. It would tire you out, and you'd bolt in a week's time. As, I can
tell you, you'll bolt from him."

"You think I shall do that. He doesn't. That's why I'm fond of him."

"I wouldn't be too fond of him. It never pays. Either you'll tire of him
in a week, or, if you go on being fond of him you'll end by being afraid
of him. You need never be afraid of me."

"I _am_ afraid of you."

"Not you. I understand you, Kitty, and he doesn't."

"You mean you know the worst of me?"

"Precisely. What's more, I should condone what you call the worst of
you, and he wouldn't."

"I know you would. That's why I'm afraid of you. You