That night, seated at his desk in the studio, he looked at the calendar.  It was the thirteenth day since he had heard from her; the last day but two of the fifteen days she had asked for.  The day after to-morrow she would have come, or would have written him that she was renouncing him forever for his own sake.  Which might it have been?  He would never know now.

He wrote her: 

“Dearest of women, Rita has been loyal to you.  It was only when I explained to her for what purpose I wished your address that she wisely gave it to me.

“Dearest, from the beginning of our acquaintance and afterward when it ripened into friendship and finally became love, upon you has rested the burden of decision; and I have permitted it.

“Even now, as I am writing here in the studio, the burden lies heavily upon your girl’s shoulders and is weighting your girl’s heart.  And it must not be so any longer.

“I have never, perhaps, really meant to be selfish; a man in love really doesn’t know what he means.  But now I know what I have done; and what must be undone.

“You were perfectly right.  It was for you to say whether you would marry me or not.  It was for you to decide whether it was possible or impossible for you to appear as my wife in a world in which you had had no experience.  It was for you to generously decide whether a rupture between that world and myself—­between my family and myself—­would render me—­and yourself—­eternally unhappy.

“You were free to decide; you used your own intellect, and you so decided.  And I had no right to question you—­I have no right now.  I shall never question you again.

“Then, because you loved me, and because it was the kind of love that ignored self, you offered me a supreme sacrifice.  And I did not refuse; I merely continued to fight for what I thought ought to be—­distressing, confusing, paining you with the stupid, obstinate reiterations of my importunities.  And you stood fast by your colours.

“Dear, I was wrong.  And so were you.  Those were not the only alternatives.  I allowed them to appear so because of selfishness....  Alas, Valerie, in spite of all I have protested and professed of love and passion for you, to-day, for the first time, have I really loved you enough to consider you, alone.  And with God’s help I will do so always.

“You have offered me two alternatives:  to give yourself and your life to me without marriage; or to quietly slip out of my life forever.

“And it never occurred to you—­and I say, with shame, that it never occurred to me—­that I might quietly efface myself and my demands from your life:  leave you free and at peace to rest and develop in that new and quieter world which your beauty and goodness has opened to you.

“Desirable people have met you more than half-way, and they like you.  Your little friend, Helene d’Enver is a genuine and charming woman.  Your friendship for her will mean all that you have so far missed in life all that a girl is entitled to.