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Rh knows it? Come! be a man—take your revenge."

"And reap the whirlwind? No, thank you." He turned away, but she seized his hand in both her own and drew him toward her.

"Must I tell you in so many words?" she cried. "Can't you see? Don't you understand? I love you!"

Ainslee stared at her in amazement. He could not believe she was serious. Was it a new trick—a clever play to entrap him again? She looked up tenderly and met his eyes.

"You said it must be all or nothing," she whispered, passionately. "Well?"

"Then let it be nothing," he said, gruffly, releasing his hand and drawing away from her quickly.

"Coward!" she cried.

He could only pity a woman who would so demean herself. "Don't you see it is too late?" he said.

In a moment of wild passion she had abandoned herself to him—for she loved him, in a morbid, frenzied way, because he belonged to another, because she could no longer trample him under her feet at will.

"It is not too late!" she exclaimed. "I love you! Do you hear? I love you—and you love me!"

Contempt drove the pity from Ainslee's heart. "I do not love you," he declared. "I love my wife. Now do you understand?"

The old tantalizing look came into her eyes. She was herself again—cold, cynical, mysterious.

"So you think I am serious?" she laughed. "You think I'm sentimental, and really care for you! You did not see through my little comedy? Well, I was acting a part. And your wife is acting a part, too. You don't see through that, either. She was jealous of me, wasn’t she? And she made you feel like a brute, didn't she? And you got down on your knees and groveled, and she told you she would never trust you again. And you, poor fool, loved her all the more. Well, watch her, I say—and watch your friend, Mr. Norman Wendell."

Ainslee looked at her curiously.

"Renée," he said, "you are the devil."

She shrugged her shoulders.

"Women are generally what men make them."

"I say, Mrs. Dressler," said Dickie, as he and Wendell appeared in the door of the dining-room, "is Schuyler so fascinating you can't eat?"

"Fascinating?" laughed Renée. "He was telling me about his domestic bliss. I suppose when he has children his one topic of conversation will be little Schuyler's parlor tricks."

"Well, if that's the case," said Dickie, holding back the portiere for her to pass, "you must be driven to drink."

Ainslee started to follow. "One moment," said Wendell, stopping before him.

"Well?" asked Ainslee, harshly.

"I was there just now," answered Wendell, pointing to the door. "It was quite by accident, but I couldn't help hearing something."

"Then I'm sorry you didn't hear more," Ainslee replied, taking a step toward the door.

"I heard enough, and I saw enough," Wendell said, angrily, barring his way again. "Do you expect me to let this go on without a protest?"

Ainslee turned toward him quickly, his face pale with anger. "Since when have I become accountable to you?" he growled.

"Since that night at your uncle's, when you gave me your word this affair would stop."

"See here, Wendell," cried Ainslee, "I refuse to be answerable for my conduct to anyone but my wife, least of all to you, when you make it your business to play the spy."

Wendell, remembering his guests, checked his impulse to continue the controversy. "Ainslee," he said, "I have played fair from the start, but you have broken your word. I owe you nothing now. I give you fair warning—it is you against me."

"Then let the best man win," hotly replied Ainslee, as he turned and left the room.