he bottle of excellent Moselle, and he
was very tired. Before he had begun to realize fairly the fact that he
was drowsy, he had fallen asleep.

When he awoke there were voices in the room he had quitted some two
hours before. The sun had gone down behind the trees in the blue
distance, and he was just a trifle stiff and chilly. He was barely
conscious of these things, when the voice of young Mr. Janes startled
him broad awake.

'It is dangerous,' said Mr. Janes; 'it is seriously dangerous.'

'Silly boy!' said Gertrude, in a voice half mocking and half caressing.
'How can an old woman like me be dangerous to the peace of a child like
you?'

'It is not dangerous to you, Gertrude,' said Mr. Janes, with a tremor
which bespoke him very much in earnest 'I know your purity, and I
reverence it. I know that I have done wrong in speaking as I have done,
but I could not help it I must go.'

'No, Ricardo,' said Gertrude, 'you must not go. You must only put this
foolish fancy by--it is only a foolish fancy--and there will be no need
to disturb a friendship which has been so sweet, so valuable, to both of
us.'

By this time it occurred suddenly to Paul that he had perhaps heard
enough, but he had hitherto been held so entirely by surprise that he
had not had time to think that this conversation was not intended for
his ears. He arose, and began to creep stealthily away, when he saw that
the curtains through which he had passed from the room were partly open
as he had left them. And whilst he stood irresolute, wondering how
he should escape, and trying to devise some means of declaring his
presence, the talk went on.

'Oh, damn it all!' he said to himself desperately. 'It isn't my fault.
I know that line of country pretty well, and I have been so often
introduced to it that I am hardly an intruder on it. I can't get away
without being seen, and that will be awkward for everybody. And I can't
stay here and listen to this rot.'

But the talk went on, and what with the absurd misery of his own
position and the well-known lines the conversation followed, he was
fairly aflame with embarrassment and self-disdain. Exactly what this
gifted and amiable young ass of a Bostonian was doing, and saying, and
thinking, and feeling, he had been doing, saying, thinking, feeling a
year ago. And Gertrude was playing with young Mr. Janes exactly as
she had played with young Mr. Armstrong. Mr. Janes took a good deal of
coaxing--more than Paul