"I have still some hopes of doing so," he admitted.

The Duchess glanced at the little Louis Seize time-piece, and hesitated.

"You had better abandon them," she said. "Lawrence Mannering may be
wrong, or he may be right, but he believes in his choice. He has no
ambition. You have no motive left to work upon."

Borrowdean shook his head.

"You are wrong, Duchess," he remarked, simply. "I never believed in
Mannering's sentimentality. To-day, with his own lips, he has confessed
to me that another, an unbroached reason, stands behind his refusal!"

"And he never told me," the Duchess murmured, involuntarily.

"Duchess," Borrowdean answered, with a faint, cynical parting of the
lips, "there are matters which a man does not mention to the woman in
whose high opinion he aims at holding an exalted place."

There was a knock at the door. The Duchess's maid entered, carrying a
long cloak of glimmering lace and satin.

The Duchess nodded.

"I come at once, Hortense," she said, in French. "Sir Leslie," she added,
turning towards him, "you are making a great mistake, and I advise you to
be careful. You are one of those who think ill of all men. Such men as
Lawrence Mannering belong to a race of human beings of whom you know