His voice vibrated as though some emotion fought fiercely for the
mastery. They stood facing each other in what might have been open
antagonism but for that deep quiver in the man's voice.

Stella spoke after the lapse of seconds. She had begun to tremble.

"Then why--why did you let me think so? Why did you always stand aloof?"

There was a tremor in her voice also, but her eyes were shining with the
light half-eager, half-anxious, of one who seeks for buried treasure.

Monck's answer was pitched very low. It was as if the soul of him gave
utterance to the words. "It is my nature to stand aloof. I was waiting."

"Waiting?" Her two hands gripped suddenly hard upon her fan, but still
her shining eyes did not flinch from his. Still with a quivering heart
she searched.

Almost in a whisper came his reply. "I was waiting--till my turn should
come."

"Ah!" The fan snapped between her hands; she cast it from her with a
movement that was almost violent.

Monck drew back sharply. With a smile that was grimly cynical he veiled
his soul. "I was a fool, of course, and I am quite aware that my
foolishness is nothing to you. But at least you know now how little
cause you have to hate me."

She had turned from him and gone to the open window. She stood there