Lady Vera pauses, irresolute. Her bosom heaves with quick, indignant sighs, her dark eyes flash.
"You advise me to receive him—this man whom I hate and despise, Lady Clive?" she says, wonderingly.
"For just once, Vera. And only now that you may learn his intentions and be on your guard against his machinations. After this time my doors shall be closed against him as against a pestilence. But you need not take my advice against your will, dear; use your own pleasure."
"You do not know how I dread to enter his presence," the girl cries, with a shudder.
"Decline to see him, then," Lady Clive advises.
"No, I will bear it this once. I will receive him this time, but after this, never!" Lady Vera answers, after a moment of painful thought.
"You decide well," Lady Clive comments, approvingly.
"He is in the library, you say," Lady Vera asks, with her hand upon the door.
"Yes. Shall I accompany you, my dear, if you dread to go alone?"
"I am not afraid of Leslie Noble," the fair young countess answers, dauntlessly. "I will face him alone."