"I can't tell you why I have spoken in this way. I want you to come back. Believe me when I tell you that it was not because you offended me—I offended myself. I—I can explain nothing. I beg you to come back."
He is at her side. He grasps her hands. He says—his voice husky with emotion:
"I will not go if you would have me stay—Did you wish it, I would never—"
He breaks off suddenly. Her sweet, innocent face is raised inquiringly—its innocence is what forbids.
She motions him into the chair by the fire, and sits down near the window. She keeps that distance between them while he stays.
He wants her to go to the theatre with him and a party of friends. He pleads that she is too tired for anything that will require more of effort, that night.
She refuses in a semi-desperate tone. She is going to a cabinet affair! She wants to go! She would not miss it for anything! He leaves the house, and she goes upstairs slowly.
Braine's valet is just entering his master's dressing-room as Helen goes by. She pauses, and tells him to ask Mr. Braine to come to her boudoir before he goes out.
She hurries to her room, and throws on a loose negligée; stirs the fire: darkens the room; lights the candles. The scene is charming, seductive—perhaps irresistible. She throws herself negligently into a chair, and puts her pretty feet on the fender. She smiles a little grimly. The scene might have been prepared for Everet—so carefully has she arranged it.
After twenty minutes, Braine taps. She calls "Come in," and half turns in her chair with a smile. She holds out her hand: