"You need not reproach yourself for his credulity. They say it's quite good for a man to believe in a woman." Kate remained silent, knowing that replies were but fuel to his sneers. But her eyes caught the clock and awoke her to the lapse of time. "Look!" she cried. "It is past one. I must go back, and it is so far. Give me the letters, I am tired." Hawke determined to comply. So much the sight of her fresh, young beauty, drooping at his feet, had wrung from him. But he was an epicure where women were concerned. He took a natural delight in evoking their emotions, and when the display gratified him, he allowed no obtrusive knowledge of its cost to them to abridge his enjoyment. So he merely repeated-- "They will be safe with me." "I cannot trust you." "Why not?" The question rang cold and sharp, like the crack of a pistol. Kate looked at his face and realised that she had lost her ground. But, as she had said, she was tired. She was too over-wrought to choose her phrases. "I dare not marry him and leave those letters in your hands." "Why not? You have trusted me with more than your letters." The brutality of the remark was emphasised by the harshness of his tone. But she replied, quietly-- "And you taunt me with my trust! Surely that is reason enough." "You are afraid that I shall use them!" "I don't know. I only know that if you keep them, I may be his wife, but you will be my master; and I dare not face that." The explanation appeased Hawke. It warmed his vanity and disposed him to reward so clear an appreciation of his power. Only the reward she asked was nothing less than the renunciation of that power. He paused over that. "Tell me," Kate continued, "why did you force me to come here?" "I am not sure," he replied, musingly. "Perhaps I wanted to see you again." "No! That was not why. You would have come to me yourself, if that had been the cause." "What was the reason, then?" Hawke smiled indulgently. This scrutiny of his intentions added to his satisfaction. It lifted him in his self-esteem, attributed to him an unusual personality. For, as a rule, people find the twenty-four hours barely long enough to discover what their neighbours do, and so are compelled to leave their thoughts and aims alone. Hawke loomed larger on his own horizon, the more particularly because the analyst was a young woman and well-favoured. "What was the reason?" "Just my marriage. You felt that I was slipping out of your grasp--escaping you. I know you so well." "But it's almost a year since I have seen you. I have left you alone during all that time. So, even if I had possessed any power, you can't urge that I have used it."