'What is it?' she asked.
He tried to school his tongue to begin, but for the moment it would not.
'Would to-morrow do as well?' asked Amelie. 'I am rather tired.'
'No; I want to tell you to-night,' said he. 'It is about Mrs. Emsworth.'
She flushed, and turned her head a little away.
'I do not care to hear,' she said.
'I must tell you, all the same,' he said.
She shrugged her shoulders ever so slightly.
'I cannot prevent you,' she said.
She sat down by her toilet-table, turning only a shoulder to him, and with her cool white hands idly arranged the things that stood there, and he began his tale. He told her everything from the beginning: of his wild infatuation for Mrs. Emsworth, of the absolute innocence of that attachment, and of the letter he had written. She interrupted him here.