There came a kind of gentle mockery into his voice.
"The shared ambitions, the concerted plans--gone, and not even a regret for them left, eh?
_Tempi passati!_ Pretty sad, too, when you come to think of it." But Linforth made no answer to Ralston's probings.

Violet Oliver's instincts had taught her the truth, which Ralston was now learning.
Linforth could be very hard.

There was nothing left of the friendship which through many years had played so large a part in his life.

A woman had intervened, and Linforth had shut the door upon it, had sealed his mind against its memories, and his heart against its claims.

The evening at La Grave in the Dauphine had borne its fruit.