"Yes, Harry," said the artist, taking his arm affectionately; "and by you, of course."
IV.
When Julian Goetze arose the next morning he felt strong within himself to withstand and conquer those fierce impulses of his savage heritage that had answered to the blandishments of Evelin March. And yet he was greatly troubled. He felt that in a large measure he had been to blame. He blushed hotly as he recalled some of the things he had said to this woman whom Harry had called a siren.
"Men are all scoundrels," he said, savagely; "I wonder if there are really any who are not so at heart."
He rapidly formulated his plan of action, and even the sentences with which he was to meet and conquer this modern Circe.
"I will keep Eva's face before me," he thought, "and I will treat her coldly. She is high-spirited and keen; she will notice the change at once and resent it. She is too proud to demand an explanation."
He felt himself equal to the ordeal. He was anxious now for her to come that it might be safely passed. As the hours went by he grew impatient; he placed her portrait on the easel and fancied the original was before him. He went through an imaginary dialogue with it in which he was wholly victorious. He no longer felt any emotion for this woman.
"I will begin a new life," he said, as he strode rapidly up and down the room; "a new life." But there was a feverishness in his voice that did not bode well for his resolution.
"I wish she would come," he muttered, fretfully.