"You misunderstand, Stephanie dear," he said softly. "I've not come to reproach you, nor to find fault, nor to cast up the few unpleasant things in an exquisite past. I've come——" he took a step toward her—"I've come, dearest, to beseech you to forgive—to come back to me—to let me make amends." He held out his arms. "You're the only woman in the world for me—I know it now—I knew it as soon as you had left me. I've come clear from India to tell you—to take you away with me. Won't you come, dearest, won't you come?"
"You would dare!" she exclaimed tensely. "You would——"
"I would dare the gates of hell for you, sweetheart!—to hold you once again in my arms, to pillow your dear head upon my shoulder, to bury my face in your ruddy tresses, to have you——"
"What folly—what silly folly!" she interrupted. "I am no longer your paramour, thank God! I am trying to be an honest woman—to regain the place I lost by reason of your seductions and false tongue. Do you think I would forfeit it again even though I loved you to distraction?"
"You do love me, Stephanie—you——"
"I loathe you!—your honeyed words and pretty beauty that once led me astray are now simply reminders of your abominations, and the proofs of your depravity.—I ask you to leave the house at once, Mr. Amherst."
"You mean it?" he whispered. "You actually mean it?"
"I do mean it," she replied. "It may be difficult for such as you to comprehend—but I mean it. Now go."
He looked her in the eyes a moment, then he humbly bowed his head.
"I will go," he said contritely. "I will go——"