"I _do_ understand. And I am thinking of what will happen if you fail to free yourself.... Because I realize now that I don't propose to leave you to grow old all alone.... I shall live with you when you're old whatever people may think. I tell you, Clive, I'm the same child, the same girl that you once knew, only grown into a woman. I know right from wrong. I had rather not do wrong. But if I've got to--I won't whimper. And I'll do it thoroughly!" "You won't do it at all," he said, smiling at her threat to the little tin gods. "I don't know. If they won't give you your freedom, and if--" "Nonsense, Athalie," he said, laughing, coolly master of himself once more. "We mustn't be unwholesomely romantic, you and I. I'll marry you if I can; if I can't, God help us, that's all." But she had become very grave: "God help us," she repeated slowly. "Because I believe that, rightly or wrongly, I shall one day belong to you." He said: "It can be only in one way. The right way." Perhaps he had awakened too late to a realisation of his power over her, for the girl made no response, no longer even looked at him. "Only one way," he repeated, uneasily;--"the right way, Athalie." But into her dark blue eyes had come a vague and brooding beauty which he had never before seen. In it was tenderness, and a new wisdom, alas! and a faint and shadowy something, profound, starlike, inscrutable. "As for love," he said, forcing a lighter tone, "there are fifty-seven different varieties, Athalie; and only one is poisonous,--unless taken with the other fifty-six, and in small doses." She smiled faintly and walked to the window. Rain beat there in the darkness spattering the little iron balcony. Below, the bleared lights of the city stretched away to the sky-line. He followed, and slipped his arm through hers; and she bent her wrist, interlacing her slim fingers with his. "You know," he said, "that when I often speak with apparent authority I am wrong. In the final analysis _you_ are the real leader, Athalie. Your instincts are the right ones; your convictions honest, your conclusions just. Mine are too often confused with selfishness and indecision. For mine is an irresolute character;--or it was. I'm trying to make it firmer." She pressed his hand lightly, her eyes still fixed on the light-smeared darkness.