"You mean--" she faltered.

"Yes," I said, "I mean that."

I thought I had gone pretty far, and my heart was beating. I could not
justly have protested had she stopped the carriage and deposited me on
the pavement by the railings of Green Park. But her character was
angelic. She accepted my treatment of her with the most astounding
meekness.

"You mean," she said, "that he is in love with me, and I chose just
that night to--refuse him."

I nodded.

"That is emotional cause enough, isn't it, to account for any
mysterious depression that any man is ever likely to have?"

"You are mistaken," she said softly. "You don't know Alresca. You
don't know his strength of mind. I can assure you that it is
something more than unreturned love that is destroying him."

"Destroying him?"

"Yes, destroying him. Alresca is capable of killing a futile passion.
His soul is too far removed from his body, and even from his mind, to
be seriously influenced by the mistakes and misfortunes of his mind
and body. Do you understand me?"

"I think so."