"And what of that?"
"And he has your promise!"
"I never spoke—"
"But the rose did!"
"The rose will fade and wither—"
"But it bears your promise—"
"I gave no promise, and—and—oh, why did you—look at me!"
"Look at you?"
"Why did you frown at me?"
"Why did you give him the rose?"
"Because it was so my pleasure. Why did you frown at me with eyes like—like a devil's?"
"I wanted to kill him—then!"
"And now?"
"Now, I wish him well of his bargain, and my thanks are due to him."
"Why?"
"Because, without knowing it, he has taught me what women are."
"What do you mean?"
"I—loved you, Cleone. To me you were one apart—holy, immaculate—"
"Yes?" said Cleone very softly.
"And I find you—"
"Only a—woman, sir,—who will not be watched, and frowned at, and spied upon."
"—a heartless coquette—" said Barnabas.
"—who despises eavesdroppers, and will not be spied upon, or frowned at!"
"I did not spy upon you," cried Barnabas, stung at last, "or if I did,
God knows it was well intended."
"How, sir?"
"I remembered the last time we three were together,—in Annersley Wood." Here my lady shivered and hid her face. "And now, you gave him the rose! Do you want the love of this man, Cleone?"
"There is only one man in all the world I despise more, and his name is—Barnabas," said she, without looking up.
"So you—despise me, Cleone?"
"Yes—Barnabas."
"And I came here to tell you that I—loved you—to ask you to be my wife—"
"And looked at me with Devil's eyes—"
"Because you were mine, and because he—"
"Yours, Barnabas? I never said so."
"Because I loved you—worshipped you, and because—"
"Because you were—jealous, Barnabas!"
"Because I would have my wife immaculate—"
"But I am not your—wife."
"No," said Barnabas, frowning, "she must be immaculate."
Now when he said this he heard her draw a long, quivering sigh, and with the sigh she rose to her feet and faced him, and her eyes were wide and very bright, and the fan she held snapped suddenly across in her white fingers.
