It was impossible for him to remain altogether unmoved. Whatever else might be the truth, she had risked most of the things that were dear to her in life by this visit.
"Mrs. Carraby," he declared, "I am entirely at your service. If you think that any useful purpose can be served by words between you and me, I would only point out, for your own sake, that your visit is, to say the least of it, unwise. These are bachelor chambers."
"You know very well," she replied calmly, "that it was my only chance of speaking with you. If I had sent for you, you would not have come. If I had spoken to you in the street, you would have passed me by—quite rightly. This was my only chance. That is why I have come to you."
"If you think it worth the risk," he remarked gravely, "pray continue."
She shrugged her shoulders very slightly.
"Who can tell what is worth the risk?"
"You have at least excited my curiosity," he admitted, leaning a little towards her. "I cannot conceive what it is that you want to say to me."
She lifted her eyes to his, and though there was nothing unusual about them—there were few people, indeed, who could tell you what color they were—men seldom forgot it when Mrs. Carraby looked at them steadily.
"I do not know, myself," she said. "I do not know why I have come."
Julien laughed unnaturally.