He went softly up the stairs and stood listening outside Betty's door. Then he knocked gently. No one answered. Nothing stirred inside.
"She may be out," he told himself. "I'll wait a bit."
At the same time he tapped again; and this time beyond the door something did stir.
Then came Betty's voice: "Qui est la?"
"It's me--Vernon. May I come in?"
A moment's pause. Then: "No. You can't possibly. Is anything the matter?"
"No--oh, no, but I wanted so much to see you. May I come to-morrow early?"
"You're sure there's nothing wrong? At home or anything? You haven't come to break anything to me?"
"No--no; it's only something I wanted to tell you."
He began to feel a fool, with his guarded whispers through a locked door.
"Then come at twelve," said Betty in the tones of finality. "Good-night."
He heard an inner door close, and went slowly away. He walked a long way that night. It was not till he was back in his rooms and had lighted his candle and wound up his watch that Lady St. Craye's kisses began to haunt him in good earnest, as he had known they would.
* * * * * Lady St. Craye, left alone, dried her eyes and set to work, with heart still beating wildly to look about her at the ruins of her world.
The room was quiet with the horrible quiet of a death chamber. And yet his voice still echoed in it. Only a moment ago she had been in his arms, as she had never hoped to be again--more--as she had never been before.
"He would have loved me now," she told herself, "if it hadn't been for that girl. He didn't love me before. He was only playing at love. He didn't know what love was. But he knows now. And it's all too late!"
But was it?
A word to Betty--and-"But you promised to help him."
"That was before he kissed me."
"But a promise is a promise."
"Yes,--and your life's your life. You'll never have another."
She stood still, her hands hanging by her sides--clenched hands that the rings bit into.
"He will go to her early to-morrow. And she'll accept him, of course. She's never seen anyone else, the little fool."
She knew that she herself would have taken him, would have chosen him as the chief among ten thousand.
"She could have Temple. She'd be much happier with Temple. She and Eustace would make each other wretched. She'd never understand him, and he'd be tired of her in a week."