"Qui est la?"
"It's me—Vernon. May I come in?"
A moment's pause. Then:
"No. You can't possibly. Is anything the matter?"
"No—oh, no, but I wanted so much to see you. May I come to-morrow early?"
"You're sure there's nothing wrong? At home or anything? You haven't come to break anything to me?"
"No—no; it's only something I wanted to tell you."
He began to feel a fool, with his guarded whispers through a locked door.
"Then come at twelve," said Betty in the tones of finality. "Good-night."
He heard an inner door close, and went slowly away. He walked a long way that night. It was not till he was back in his rooms and had lighted his candle and wound up his watch that Lady St. Craye's kisses began to haunt him in good earnest, as he had known they would.