He crossed at the head of Hazel Dene, and the drone of the mill-wheel sounded below him. "They are grinding corn for bread down there," he said; then laughed at some odd side-shaft of incongruity that the thought suggested. He hurried on till he gained Wynyates. One window of the parlour was open to the dry, sharp air, and he heard voices within. Cautiously he crept under the window and raised his head a few inches above the sill. Roddick was standing with his back to the window. Facing him was Janet, her eyes red with weeping, her whole body shaken with sobs. "Listen, child," Roddick was saying; "you must go back at once. I will walk home with you across the moor. Come quickly, for God's sake! I am arguing against myself all the while, and I cannot hold out much longer. Come!" He dropped her hands, and turned to the chair over which her cloak was hanging. He took the cloak and tried to place it round her shoulders. She struggled, threw it aside, put both hands about his neck. "Leo, Leo!" she sobbed; "I won't, I can't go back! I have eaten my heart out long enough. We have waited and waited, you and I, for that other woman to die, and we have done enough." A feeble chuckle came from without, but they did not hear it. "Wait a little longer, sweetheart," Roddick pleaded. His voice was strained and husky. "It cannot be for long. Think of the future; suppose we went away together to-night, and she died to-morrow--should we ever forgive ourselves?" "Yes, we should. It may be years yet--and meanwhile it is killing _us_. Soon we shall be too old, too grey, too riven by the strain of it all. Leo, darling, come away while we can!" She kissed him, wildly, beseechingly. For a moment he trembled, fell weak, all but gave in. But he was made of stubborn stuff; love was to conquer desire, so long as he had a trace of will-power left to him. The man outside, with his pale face peering above the window-ledge, forgot everything in the excitement of this terrible drama. Mile on mile of desolate moor, and in the middle of it two people, a man and a woman, taking opposite sides in a conflict of honour; the man pleading for what he knew to be the woman's gain, and she pleading for a change of misery. Not a hope of interruption; the battle to be fought out just by these two. The impartial moor was willing to show them a path of flight, if they needed it--or a way to honour, if so the issue ran. Not a sound stirred; the wind and Griff spoke not a word. "Wait!" gasped Roddick. "I have waited too long, too long," she wailed, with childish repetition. "Leo, do you care for me so much, after all? You cannot, or you would not be hard like this." He made as if to kiss her, then drew back. He dared not risk it. "Oh, hush, Janet! You know I care for you. If I cared less, should I hesitate like this? You don't understand what you are asking me to do--you see only the first few steps." "No, I have set it all before me--all. I will risk it, Leo."