"Because it is my business to hate him—and make love to him at the same time. Come, Mr. Owen, let us be frank."
For the first time in his life Owen felt himself mastered by the sheer fascination of a woman. "What am I to do?" he said breathlessly.
"I will tell you tonight at the ball. Now you must run away."
He arose instantly, but as she stood beside him, he turned, caught her in his arms and kissed her passionately.
She protested with a little cry and a struggle not too violent to damage her coiffure. He drew back from her. There was something of astonishment in his eyes—astonishment at himself.
"You are the only woman in the world who ever made me do that," he gasped.
"Go, go," she pleaded.
"But you are angry? You break our agreement?"
"No, but I am overcome. I shall meet you tonight."
He caught her hand to his lips, and hurried from the house.