"That's better," said Miss French contentedly, slipping an arm through his. "And now, if we leave the path and bear to the right, in about two minutes we shall come to my window." The two had been climbing steadily, but another fifty paces in the direction Miss French had indicated brought them to the foot of a steeper ascent than ever. This was, in fact, a broad natural bank, some thirty feet high. The careful negotiation of a tiny path, followed by a plunge into a thicket, where the stubborn protests of boughs had to be overruled, landed them in a dwarf clearing, which the density of the surrounding bocage rendered a fastness. Valerie stepped to the far side and parted the branches. "Look," she said. They were upon the lip of a heather-edged bluff which fell sheer for perhaps two hundred feet into a pinewood. Beyond, by mammoth terraces, the glory of the forest sank step by colossal step into the purple distance, from which distant in turn a thread of silver argued the ocean. There never was such a staircase. The grandeur of its proportions diminished the rolling world. The splendour of its covering made colour pale. Anthony gazed spellbound. At length-- "I didn't know there was such a view in all England," he said. Miss French smiled. Then she moved cautiously forward, till she was clear of the bushes, there to sit down upon a billowing cushion of heather which grew conveniently about as close to the edge of the bluff as it was prudent to venture. Abstractedly Anthony followed her and, after a glance about him, took his seat by her side upon a patch of gravel. "I'm in your debt," he said simply. "Deeper than I was before." Valerie nodded at the wonder of landscape. "I'll make you a present of this," she said. "What else do you owe me for?" Anthony spread out his hands. "Your society," he said. "You've paid for that--with your own." "Your pity, then." "I've never pitied you," said Valerie. "You've stooped," said Anthony. "I've not stooped," was the fierce reply. "We won't argue it," said Anthony. "I owe you for your--your interest, at any rate. You've been good enough to interest yourself in my----" "Aren't--you--interested?" said Valerie, staring into the distance and seeing nothing. For a long minute the man sat motionless, not seeming to breathe. Then-- "Yes," he said slowly, "I am. And that's the devil of it." With a sudden jerk he was on one knee beside her and had caught her hand. "Oh, lady, don't you see? That's what kills everything. Am I interested? Good God, I'm--I'm crazy! I can think of nothing else. You blot out everything in the world. Whatever I do, or say, or think, you're always there. There's nothing but you, you, you! And you ask if I'm interested!"