"Are you my friend," Mannering asked, quietly, "that you wish to pry
behind the curtain of my life? If I have other reasons they concern
myself alone."

Borrowdean shook his head. He had scored, but he took care to show no
sign of triumph.

"The issue is too great," he said, "to be tried by the ordinary rules
which govern social life. Will you presume that I am your friend, and let
us consider the whole matter afresh together?"

"I will not," Mannering answered. "But I will do this. I will answer your
question. There is another reason which makes my reappearance in public
life impossible. Not even your subtlety, Borrowdean, could remove it. I
do not even wish it removed. I mean to live my own life, and not to be
pitchforked back into politics to suit the convenience of a few
adventurous office-seekers, and the Duchess of Lenchester!"

"Mannering!"

But Mannering had gone.

* * * * *

Borrowdean felt that this was a trying day. After a battle with Mannering
he was face to face with an angry woman, to whose presence an imperious
little note had just summoned him. Berenice was dressed for a royal
dinner party, and she had only a few minutes to spare. Nevertheless she
contrived to make them very unpleasant ones for Borrowdean.