"Promise me," she persisted, leaning forward and putting her hand on his shoulder. "Give me your word that you won't?"
"You don't understand."
"I do, oh! I do," she cried. "Oh, you must promise, you must. I felt that something was the matter. I—that is why I had to come back. You must."
The first emotional tension somewhat relaxed, Beresford found himself wondering what was to happen. Suddenly he remembered the letter.
"How did you get my note? I told the man to post it to-night."
"It was brought round by hand," she said.
A whirr from the mantelpiece caused him to look round. The clock was about to strike twelve.
"Lola, look at the time. You mustn't stay here."
"I shall have no reputation now," she said with a wan smile.
"I'll take you back to your hotel."
She shook her head.
"Dearest, you don't understand." He shook her in his eagerness. "You can't stay here, it's twelve o'clock."
"I know," she said quietly.
"But don't you understand?" he persisted.
"Ummmm," she nodded her head.
"Please get up and let me put your cloak on, I'll take you round"
She shook her head decisively.
"But" began Beresford, and then paused.
