"No," he returned, his face clouding, and dropping his eyes before her
mocking gaze. "You shall not despise me. Single or married, you must make
your own happiness or misery. You know that; why do you wish to make me
repeat the wretched commonplaces that others use?"

"I'm glad you have so good an opinion of yourself, Mr. Chance," she
replied. "I was vexed with you at first, but am not so now. To watch the
changes of your chameleon mind, not always successful in getting the
right colour at the right moment, is just as good as a play. If you
really mean to come again and again I shall not object--it will amuse me.
Only do not come at two o'clock in the morning; it might compromise me,
and, unconventional as I am, I should not forgive you a second time. But
honestly, Mr. Chance, I don't believe you will come again. You know now
that I know you, and you are too wise to waste your energies on me. I
hope you will not give up visiting me--in the daytime. We admire each
other, and I have always had a friendly feeling for you. That is a real
feeling--not an artificial one like the love you spoke of."

He rose to go. "Time will show whether it is an artificial feeling or
not," he said; and after bidding good-night and hearing the door close
after him, he walked away towards Westbourne Grove. He had gone from her
presence with a smile on his lips, but in the street it quickly vanished
from his face, and breaking into a rapid walk and clenching his fists, he
exclaimed, between his set teeth, "Curse the jade!"

It was not a sufficient relief to his feelings, and yet he seemed unable
to think of any other expression more suitable to the occasion, for after
going a little further, he repeated, "Curse the jade!"