How many an hour we have sat talking in this room, and how constantly your sympathy has been my support and your wisdom my guide!" Lawrence Newt, whose face had grown very grave, waved his hand deprecatingly.
"I know, I know," she continued.

"Let that remain unsaid.

It can not be unforgotten.

But I know your secrets too." They looked at each other.
"You love Amy Waring." His face became inscrutable, and his eyes were fixed quietly upon hers.
She betrayed no embarrassment, but continued, "Amy Waring loves you." A sudden light shot into that inscrutable face.

The clear eyes were veiled for an instant by an exquisite emotion.
"What separates you ?" There was an authority in the tone of the question which Lawrence Newt found hard to resist.