“There are different methods of compulsion,” Aynesworth answered.
Wingrave regarded him thoughtfully.
“That,” he said, “is true. But I still do not understand why you are sorry for her.”
“Because,” Aynesworth said, “I know the history of a certain event, and I know you. It is, I suppose, for this end that you made use of them.”
Wingrave nodded.
“Quite right,” he declared. “I think that the time is not far off when that dear lady and I can cry quits. This time, too, I see nothing to impair my satisfaction at the probable finale. In various other cases, as you might remember, I have not been entirely successful.”
“It depends,” Aynesworth remarked drily, “upon what you term success.”
Wingrave shrugged his shoulders.
“I think,” he said coldly, “that you are aware of what my feelings and desired course of action have been with regard to those of my fellow creatures with whom I have happened to come into contact. It seems to me that I have been a trifle unfortunate in several instances.”
“As for instance?” Aynesworth asked.