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“That man’s dangerous,” said Nadine. “Let’s be practical. Two points stick out. One, I’ve been a beast. Two, Mr. Chater knows all about it.”

“Do you think I care a damn about Mr. Chater?” replied John, through the whirl of his mind.

“Don’t you?”

“Why should I?”

Nadine smiled rather ironically, and he misinterpreted her expression.

“No, I’m the beast,” he exclaimed. “I meant I didn’t care a damn about Mr. Chater for myself—I forgot about you.”

“I wasn’t thinking of that,” she answered. “You needn’t worry about me. I’m case-hardened—”

“Don’t!”

“What?”

He looked at her almost angrily.

“I can’t bear it when you talk about yourself as though—as though you were—”

“The world’s worst woman? No, John, I’m not that. I generally play the game—however dangerous—and I generally choose players who know all about the risks. I’m being quite honest with you. Virtues and vices alike. But just sit on that impulse to idealise me. Men like you do that much too easily. The reason I said I was a beast was because I’ve taken you at a disadvantage and got you into a mess.”

“I don’t admit that!”

“No, you wouldn’t. You’re even better than your old school tie.”

“Are you idealising me?”

“Heavens, no! I could tell you something that would make you wince! But I want to get you out of the mess. If I could do it by saying good-night and walking out of the room, I’d leave you this moment.”

“That wouldn’t help,” he agreed.

“What will?” she asked. “Have you any suggestion?”

“Yes.”

“Is it a good one?”

“It’s the only one—and if you know me as well as you think you do, you’ll realise it.”