"In the main, yes," Douglas answered.

"There are women," Drexley said, "who are very beautiful and very
attractive, who admit at times to their friendship men with whom
anything but friendship would be impossible, and who contrive to
insinuate in some subtle way that their personality is for themselves
alone, or for some other chosen one. How it's done, I don't know, but I
believe there are plenty of women who do know, and who are able to
preserve unbroken friendships with men who, but for the exercise of that
gift, must inevitably fall in love with them. And there are also
women," Drexley continued, with voice not quite so steady, "who have the
opposite gift, who are absolutely heartless, wholly unscrupulous, as
cold as adders, and who are continually promising with their eyes, and
lips, and their cursed manner what they never intend to give. They will
take a strong man and break him upon the wheel, the wreck of whose life
is a glorification to their vanity. And of this type is Emily de
Reuss."

Douglas was embarrassed--vaguely uneasy. The memory of Rice's words
came flooding back to him. Whatever else was true, this man's
sufferings were real indeed. To him she had never been anything but a
most charming benefactor. In a momentary fit of introspection he told
himself, then, that her sex had scarcely ever troubled him.

"I think I know, Mr. Drexley," he said, "why you have spoken to me like
this, and I can assure you that I am grateful. If Emily de Reuss is
what you say, I am very sorry, for I have never received anything but
kindness from her. So far as regards anything else, I do not think that
I am in any sort of danger. I will confess to you that I am ambitious.