I am deeply honored by believing that in return she loves me--not
you at all. Therefore, it is common sense to ask you to release
her, and let her be happy with the person she prefers--is it not
so?"

Eustace Medlicott had grown white with anger and astonishment as
he listened, and now broke in hotly, forgetful of his intoning
voice or anything but his outraged dignity.

"When have you had the opportunity to try and undermine the faith
of my betrothed, may I ask? Supposing you are saying this
seriously and not as some ill-timed jest."

Count Roumovski lifted his eyebrows a little and looked almost
with pity at his adversary. "We are not talking in the heroic
manner," he replied, unmoved by the other's taunt, "we are, I
presume, two fairly intelligent men discussing this affair
together--there has been no question of undermining. Miss Rawson
and myself found we understood each other very soon after we first
met. Surely, you must realize, sir, that love cannot be commanded,
it will not come or go at one's bidding. These ridiculous bonds of
convention, holding to a promise given when the spirit to keep it
is no longer there, can ruin people's lives."

Mr. Medlicott drew himself up, he was not quite so tall as the
Russian, but of no mean height, and his intense, ascetic face,
emaciated to extreme leanness, now reddened with passion, while
the veins stood out upon his high, narrow forehead. He was always
very irritable when crossed, and his obstinate nature was strongly
combative.