"Why do you taunt me with that?"
"Because the game is not played out. I do not break my promise, and I promised you that he should be yours—yours. Well, the time has come when my promise may be fulfilled."
"What do you mean?"
"Countess, are you still in love with Faversham?"
"I don't know. Sometimes I think I hate him. Tell me, why have you brought me here to-day?"
"To give you your opportunity. To tell you how, if you still love Faversham, you can win him; and how, if you hate him, you can have your revenge. Surely, Olga Petrovic, you are not the kind of woman who sits down meekly to a snub. To offer your love to a man, and then accept a cold rebuff. I thought I knew you better."
Deeply as his words wounded her, she did not forget her caution.
"What interest have you in him?" she asked. "I have never been able to understand you."
"No, I am not easily understood, and I do not make my motives public property. But Faversham will in future live in London. He, although he is a Labour Member, will have but little sympathy, little in common with his confrères. He will be lonely; he will long for the society of women, especially for those who are educated, fascinating, beautiful. Olga, are you the woman to be beaten? Listen, he with his tastes, will need money. You can give it to him. He will be lonely; he will need companionship. You have a beautiful flat in Mayfair, and you can be as fascinating as an angel."
She listened to every word he said, but her mind might be far away.