'And now,' said Stephen, having ascertained what she wanted to know,
'what is it that you want to speak to me about?' Her words fell on Leonard like a cold douche. Here had he been talking
about his love for her, and yet she ignored the whole thing, and asked
him what he wanted to talk about. 'What a queer girl you are. You don't seem to attend to what a fellow is
saying. Here have I been telling you that I love you, and asking you to
marry me; and yet you don't seem to have even heard me!' She answered at
once, quite sweetly, and with a smile of superiority which maddened him:

'But that subject is barred!' 'How do you mean? Barred!' 'Yes. I told you yesterday!' 'But, Stephen,' he cried out quickly, all the alarm in him and all the
earnestness of which he was capable uniting to his strengthening, 'can't
you understand that I love you, with all my heart? You are so beautiful;
so beautiful!' He felt now in reality what he was saying. The torrent of his words left no opening for her objection; it swept all
merely verbal obstacles before it. She listened, content in a measure. So long as he sat at the distance which she had arranged before his
coming she did not fear any personal violence. Moreover, it was a
satisfaction to her now to hear him, who had refused her, pleading in
vain. The more sincere his eloquence, the larger her satisfaction; she
had no pity for him now. 'I know I was a fool, Stephen! I had my chance that day on the hilltop;
and if I had felt then as I feel now, as I have felt every moment since,
I would not have been so cold. I would have taken you in my arms and
held you close and kissed you, again, and again, and again. Oh, darling! I love you! I love you! I love you!' He held out his arms imploringly. 'Won't you love me? Won't--'

He stopped, paralysed with angry amazement. She was laughing. He grew purple in the face; his hands were still outstretched. The few
seconds seemed like hours. 'Forgive me!' she said in a polite tone, suddenly growing grave. 'But
really you looked so funny, sitting there so quietly, and speaking in
such a way, that I couldn't help it. You really must forgive me! But
remember, I told you the subject was barred; and as, knowing that, you
went on, you really have no one but yourself to blame!' Leonard was
furious, but managed to say as he dropped his arms:

'But I love you!' 'That may be, now,' she went on icily. 'But it is too late. I do not
love you; and I have never loved you! Of course, had you accepted my
offer of marriage you should never have known that. No matter how great
had been my shame and humiliation when I had come to a sense of what I
had done, I should have honourably kept my part of the tacit compact
entered into when I made that terrible mistake. I cannot tell you how
rejoiced and thankful I am that you took my mistake in such a way. Of
course, I do not give you any credit for it; you thought only of
yourself, and did that which you liked best!' 'That is a nice sort of thing to tell a man!' he interrupted with cynical
frankness. 'Oh, I do not want to hurt you unnecessarily; but I wish there to be no
possible misconception in the matter. Now that I have discovered my
error I am not likely to fall into it again; and that you may not have
any error at all, I tell you now again, that I have not loved you, do not
love you, and never will and never can love you.' Here an idea struck
Leonard and he blurted out:

'But do you not think that something is due to me?' 'How do you mean?' Her brows were puckered with real wonder this time. 'For false hopes raised in my mind. If I did not love you before, the
very act of proposing to me has made me love you; and now I love you so
well that I cannot live without you!' In his genuine agitation he was
starting up, when the sight of her hand laid upon the gong arrested him. She laughed as she said:

'I thought that the privilege of changing one's mind was a female
prerogative! Besides, I have done already something to make reparation
to you for the wrong of . . . of--I may put it fairly, as the suggestion
is your own--of not having treated you as a woman!' 'Damn!' 'As you observe so gracefully, it is annoying to have one's own silly
words come back at one, boomerang fashion. I made up my mind to do
something for you; to pay off your debts.' This so exasperated him that
he said out brutally:

'No thanks to you for that! As I had to put up with the patronage and
the lecturings, and the eyeglass of that infernal old woman, I don't
intend . . . ' Stephen stood up, her hand upon the gong:

'Mr. Everard, if you do not remember that you are in my drawing-room, and
speaking of my dear and respected aunt, I shall not detain you longer!' He sat down at once, saying surlily:

'I beg your pardon. I forgot. You make me so wild that--that . . . ' He
chewed the ends of his moustache angrily. She resumed her seat, taking
her hand from the gong. Without further pause she continued:

'Quite right! It has been Miss Rowly who paid your debts. At first I
had promised myself the pleasure; but from something in your speech and
manner she thought it better that such an act should not be done by a
woman in my position to a man in yours. It might, if made public, have
created quite a wrong impression in the minds of many of our friends.' There was something like a snort from Leonard. She ignored it:

'So she paid the money herself out of her own fortune. And, indeed, I
must say that you do not seem to have treated her with much gratitude.' 'What did I say or do that put you off doing the thing yourself?' 'I shall answer it frankly: It was because you manifested, several times,
in a manner there was no mistaking, both by words and deeds, an intention
of levying blackmail on me by using your knowledge of my ridiculous,
unmaidenly act. No one can despise, or deplore, or condemn that act more
than I do; so that rather than yield a single point to you, I am, if
necessary, ready to face the odium which the public knowledge of it might
produce. What I had intended to do for you in the way of compensation
for false hopes raised to you by that act has now been done. That it was
done by my aunt on my behalf, and not by me, matters to you no more than
it did to your creditors, who, when they received the money, made no
complaint of injury to their feelings on that account. 'Now, when you think the whole matter over in quietness, you will,
knowing that I am ready at any time to face if necessary the unpleasant
publicity, be able to estimate what damage you would do to yourself by
any expose. It seems to me that you would come out of it pretty badly
all round. That, however, is not my affair; it entirely rests with
yourself. I think I know how women would regard it. I dare say you best
know how men would look at it; and at you!' Leonard knew already how the only man who knew of it had taken it, and
the knowledge did not reassure him! 'You jade! You infernal, devilish, cruel, smooth-tongued jade!'