Tristram's anger had died down, likewise his suspicions; after a moment's thought the sane point of view always presented itself to his brain.

No, whatever her reasons were for her disdain of him, having another lover was not the cause.

And then he grew intoxicated again with her beauty and grace.
She was a terrible temptation to him; she would have been so to any normal man--and they were dining together--and she was his very own! The waiters, with their cough of warning at the door, brought coffee and liqueurs, and then bodily removed the dinner table, and shut the doors.
And now Zara knew she was practically alone with her lord for the night.
He walked about the room--he did not drink any coffee, nor even a Chartreuse--and she stood perfectly still.

Then he came back to her, and suddenly clasped her in his arms, and passionately kissed her mouth.
"Zara!" he murmured hoarsely.

"Good God! do you think I am a stone! I tell you I love you--madly.