"But they told me you had gone away—to Paris."
"I did start, but I came back."
"I have been twice to-day to her house to ask for you. I was very nearly rushing off to Paris after you. I'm glad I didn't." He said this quite simply, and then his face clouded. "But if I understand all this, may I—may I take to opium again?" His eyes cleared, and he smiled as he spoke the last words.
"I hope you will never do that," I replied.
"No, I shan't—now. Do you remember what I said to you in the gardens yesterday? Yesterday—why it seems twenty years ago."
"You mean that you would hate me if I stopped you taking it?"
"Yes, that's it. I have hated you too, I can tell you. I couldn't help it—but I haven't taken any since. It's cost something to keep from it; but I've done it. And I shall be all right—now. I nearly gave in, though, when I heard you'd left the city."
"I knew that you had the strength to resist when I spoke to you yesterday," and I looked at him steadily. He returned the look for a moment.
"It's wonderful," he murmured. "Positively wonderful." Then in a louder tone: "I think you must have hypnotised me."
"Oh, no. I only appealed to your stronger nature—your former self. You have the strength to resist, but you let it rust."