But Constance kept her seat, her eyes on the ground.
"I believe you were going down on Saturday ?" she said.
"So it was arranged.

Well, I mustn't stay--" Constance rose, and he offered his hand.
"Between us, it makes no difference, I hope ?" said Dyce, with an emphasised effort of cheeriness.

"Unless you think me a paltry fellow, ready to do anything to get on ?" "I don't think that," replied Constance, quietly.
"But you feel that what I was going to ask would have been rather a severe test of friendship ?" "Under the circumstances, I could have pardoned you." "But you wouldn't have got beyond forgiveness ?" Constance smiled coldly, her look wandering.
"How can I tell ?" "But--oh, never mind! Good-bye, for the present." He pressed her hand again, and turned away.

Before he had reached the door, Constance's voice arrested him.
"Mr.Lashmar--" He looked at her as if with disinterested inquiry.
"Think well before you take any irreparable step.

It would be a pity." Dyce moved towards her again.
"Why, what choice have I?
The position is impossible.