CHAPTER VII.
THE OTHER SIDE OF THE DOOR Having secured Kitty's forgotten fan, Mallory absent-mindedly descended the long stone flight of steps instead of taking the lift and, regaining the street, hailed a passing taxi and drove towards Green Street, whither the Seymours' car had already proceeded.
As the driver threaded his way through the traffic, Peter's thoughts revolved round the scene which his unexpected return to the flat had interrupted.

There was only one deduction to be drawn from it, which was that Nan, after all, still cared for Maryon Rooke.

The old love still held her.
The realisation was bitter.

Even though the woman who was his wife must always stand betwixt himself and Nan, yet loving her as he did, it had meant a good deal to Mallory to know that no other man had any claim upon her.
And earlier in the afternoon, just before the maid had intruded on them to deliver Rooke's telegram, it had seemed almost as though Nan, too, had cared.

One moment more alone together and he would have known--been sure.
A vague vision of the future had even flashed through his mind--he and Nan never any more to one another than good comrades, but each knowing that underneath their friendship lay something stronger and deeper--the knowledge that, though unavowed, they belonged to each other.