‘I should like it better than this.’

‘You’re very selfish, as I said before.’

‘I know that. I’m selfish as iron.’

‘Even iron sometimes melts! If you’ll be reasonable I’ll see you again.’

‘Don’t you call me reasonable now?’

‘I don’t know what to say to you,’ she answered with sudden humility.

‘I shan’t trouble you for a long time,’ the young man went on. He made a step towards the door, but he stopped. ‘Another reason why I came was that I wanted to hear what you would say in explanation of your having changed your mind.’

Her humbleness as suddenly deserted her. ‘In explanation? Do you think I’m bound to explain?’

He gave her one of his long dumb looks. ‘You were very positive. I did believe it.’

‘So did I. Do you think I could explain if I would?’

‘No, I suppose not. Well,’ he added, ‘I’ve done what I wished. I’ve seen you.’

‘How little you make of these terrible journeys,’ she felt the poverty of her presently replying.

‘If you’re afraid I’m knocked up—in any such way as that—you may be at your ease about it.’ He turned away, this time in earnest, and no hand-shake, no sign of parting, was exchanged between them. At the door he stopped with his hand on the knob. ‘I shall leave Florence to-morrow,’ he said without a quaver.

‘I’m delighted to hear it!’ she answered passionately. Five minutes after he had gone out she burst into tears.