Grimshaw said: “Yes, I dare say that is the explanation. But ...”
“But it makes no difference to you?” she pleaded. In the distance she heard the faint grind of wheels.
“No,” he said, “not even if no one else knew it. I’m very tired; I’m very lonely. I want you so; I want you with all my heart. But not that—not that.”
“Not ever?” she said.
“No,” he answered; “I’ll play with my cards on the table. If I grow very tired—very, very tired—if I cannot hold out any longer, well, I may consent—to your living with me as your mother lived with your father. But”—and he stood up briskly—“I’ll tell you this: you’ve strengthened me—you’ve strengthened me in my motive. If you had shuddered at me as you did on that day years ago, I think I should have given in by now. But you didn’t any longer. You’ve come to me; you raised your arms to me. Don’t you see how it has strengthened me? I’m not alone any more; I’m not the motherless boy that I was.... Yes, it’s heaven.”
Her hands fell by her side. The sound of wheels filled the room, and ceased.
“If I’d repulsed you, you’d have given in?” she said.
The door fell violently back, and from the black and radiant figure of Ellida came the triumphant cry: “Kitty’s spoken! Kitty’s spoken! You’ve not deceived me!”
II
HE found Pauline Leicester in his dining-room upon his return to town. Little and serious, and always with the tiny smile about her lips, she was seated in his deep chair by the fireplace. He was happy and erect, with Katya’s kisses still upon his lips, and for all the world he felt a tenderness.