When people came she picked up the book and scanned its pages; sometimes she made pretence of sleeping.
But that morning, Malcourt, errant, found her reading in her hammock.
Expecting him to pass his way as usual, she nodded with civil indifference, and continued her reading.
"I want to ask you something," he said, "if I may interrupt you." "What is it, Louis ?" "May I draw up a chair ?" "Why--if you wish.

Is there anything I can do for you?
"-- closing her book.
"Is there anything I can do for _you_, Shiela ?" A tinge of colour came into her cheeks.
"Thank you," she said in curt negation.
"Are you quite sure ?" "Quite.

What do you mean ?" "There is one thing I might do for your sake," he smiled--"blow my bally brains out." She said in a low contemptuous voice: "Better resort to that for your own sake than do what you are doing to Miss Suydam." "What am I doing to Miss Suydam ?" "Making love to her." He sat, eyes idly following the slight swaying motion of her hammock, the smile still edging his lips.
"Don't worry about Miss Suydam," he said; "she can take care of herself.
What I want to say is this: Once out of mistaken motives--which nobody, including yourself, would ever credit--I gave you all I had to give--my name....

It's not much of a name; but I thought you could use it.

I was even fool enough to think--other things.