"It is probable that she has formed conclusions."
Lashmar's eyes fell. He saw that Constance was watching him. In the turmoil of his feelings all he could do was to jerk out an impatient laugh.
"It's no use," he exclaimed. "You and I have come to a deadlock. We no longer understand each other. I thought you were the kind of woman whom a man can treat as his equal, without fear of ridiculous misconceptions and hysterical scenes. One more disillusion!"
"Don't you think?" asked Constance, with a bitter smile, "that you are preparing a good many others for yourself?"
"Of course I know what you mean. There are certain things it wouldn't be easy to discuss with you at any time; you can't expect me to speak of them at present. Suppose it an illusion. I came to you, in all honesty, to tell you what had happened. I thought of you as my friend, as one who cared about my happiness."
"Why this morning?"
"For the reason I began by explaining. I have to come here to lunch."
"Would it surprise you, when you do come, to be met with the news that Lord Dymchurch has proposed to Miss Tomalin and been accepted?"
"Indeed," Dyce answered, smiling, "it would surprise me very much."
"Which is as much as to say that I was right, just now, in refusing to believe you. Do you know," Constance added, with fresh acerbity, "that you cut a very poor figure? As a diplomatist, you will not go very far. As an ordinary politician, I doubt whether you can make your way with such inadequate substitutes for common honesty. Perhaps you do represent the coming man. In that case, we must look anxiously for the coming woman, to keep the world from collapse.—Be so good, now, as to answer a plain question. You will do so, simply because you know that I have but to speak half-a-dozen words to Lady Ogram, and you would be spared the trouble of coming here to lunch. What is your scheme? If I had been so pliant as you expected, what would you have asked of me?"