to telephone an excuse--"the Countess had a bad
headache." Had she said heartache it would have been nearer the truth.
But one does not tell the truth in these matters.

Not for years--not since the strenuous times when Don had saved her from
serious trouble and put her on the road to success had Madalena de
Santiago been so unhappy. Whichever way she looked she saw darkness
ahead, yet she hoped something from her talk with Don--just what, she did
not specify to herself in words, but "_something_."

"I wish to see Mr. Nelson Smith on important business," she said, looking
the butler straight in the eyes. It was he who opened the door of the
Portman Square house on the "charity days." He gave her back look for
look, losing the air of respectable servitude and suddenly becoming a
human being.

"Mr. Smith is not alone," he answered, contriving to give some special
meaning to the ordinary words which made them almost cryptic. "But I
think he will be free before long, if you care to wait, madame, and I
will mention that you are here."

"You must say it is important," she impressed upon him as she was ushered
into a little reception room.

A few minutes later Charrington took her to the door of the "den," where
Knight received her with casual cheerfulness.

"This is an unexpected pleasure!" he said.

"Don't let us bother with conventionalities, Don!" she exclaimed,
her emotion showing itself in petulance. "I had to come and have an
understanding with you."

"An understanding?" Knight was very calm, so calm that she--who knew him
in many phases--was stung with the conviction that he needed to ask no
questions. He was temporizing; and her anger--passionate, unavailing
anger, beating itself like waves on the rock of his strong nature--broke
out in tears.

"You know what I mean!" She choked on the words. "You're tired of me!
There's nothing more I can do for you, and so--and so--oh, Don, say I'm
wrong! Say it's a mistake. Say it's not you but _she_ who doesn't want
me. She's jealous. Only say that. It's all I want. Just to know it is not
you who are so cruel--after the past!"

Knight remained unmoved. He looked straight at her, frowning. "What
past?" he inquired, blankly.

"You ask me that--_you_?"

"We have never been anything to one another," Knight said. "Not even
friends. You know that as well as I do. We've been valuable to each other
after a fashion, I to you, you to me, and we can be the same in future if