"Very; though I fail to see why you should use the possessive pronoun. She would not thank you, believe me."
"Because you discovered her, that is all. She is charming. Like Brynhild, brave and bold."
"Cruel and cold."
"Nonsense. Men like you, my friend, of the earth earthy, are alarmed by the glistening circle of fire. Few have the courage to leap it and wake the heart within. Gudrun, duly decked in diamonds and given away by her father in St. George's, Hanover-square, is more in your line. Better so, for Sigurd is a double-faced scoundrel, and Brynhild's heart is too good to break." Her voice grew serious, a little bitter smile came to her face; for Violet had a heart of her own.
"I quite agree with you."
The jest was gone both from his mind and hers, and she changed the subject adroitly, certain of one thing, that here was a weapon ready to her hand. Love versus Greed-of-Gold! Really, that method of putting it sounded quite pretty. And then suddenly a fierce pang of jealousy shot through her as she thought of the look she had caught unawares on Paul's face. Alice Woodward would never rouse such a look as that--never! Would it not be better to leave things as they were? But, then, why should they not be turned to something better? If, somehow, they could be manipulated so as to disgust him both with mere money and mere affection, it would be better for all concerned. For him, above all, since he could neither live without love or money; and she could give him both.
As they talked commonplaces during the remainder of the walk, Paul felt more contented than he had done for a week, even while he was asking himself captiously why this should be so. To see the girl you like, and say not a single word to her ear alone, to shake hands with her and feel no desire to prolong the touch, to look in her face and see nothing that was not clear and cold in her eyes, was not, could not, be comforting. Clearly his feeling for her was not to be classed as a passion. And yet how glad he had been to see her. How contented he had been to walk beside her, and what a sense of bien-être her presence gave him. And it was distinctly satisfactory to find it so little disturbing. Then, recognising the fact that he was becoming absent in the effort to remember the exact look on her face as she shook hands with him, he set the thought of her from him angrily. He would not be the sport of a mere sentimental fancy, unworthy of a man who had the courage to face his own manhood.
[CHAPTER XIII.]
The next morning Paul, smoking his usual cigar of proprietorship about the stables and dog kennels, saw Mrs. Vane coming with a pretty little air of hesitation along one of the shrubbery paths.
"Ben trovato! Who would have thought of finding you here?" she cried gaily, just as if she had not been watching to catch him from her window for the last ten minutes. "I have missed my way to the Lodge; show it to me, please."