I have tried to be." She appeared to find his agitation disconcerting, and she withdrew a little from the yellow-stained fingers which had crept out towards hers.
"We are all friends," she said evasively.

"Perhaps--if there is anything important, then--I will come, or send for you." He rose to his feet, less, it seemed, as an act of courtesy in view of her departure, than with the intention of some further movement.

He suddenly reseated himself, however, his fingers grasped at the air, he became ghastly pale.
"Are you ill, Mr.Fenn ?" she exclaimed.
He poured himself out a glass of water with trembling fingers and drank it unsteadily.
"Nerves, I suppose," he said.

"I've had to carry the whole burden of these negotiations upon my shoulders, with very little help from any one, with none of the sympathy that counts." A momentary impulse of kindness did battle with her invincible dislike of the man.
"You must remember," she urged, "that yours is a glorious work; that our thoughts and gratitude are with you." "But are they ?" he demanded, with another little burst of passion.
"Gratitude, indeed! If the Council feel that, why was I not selected to approach the Prime Minister instead of Julian Orden?
Sympathy! If you, the one person from whom I desire it, have any to offer, why can you not be kinder?
Why can you not respond, ever so little, to what I feel for you ?" She hesitated for a moment, seeking for the words which would hurt him least.

Tactless as ever, he misunderstood her.
"I may have had one small check in my career," he continued eagerly, "but the game is not finished.