“I do not love you, Yvonne. I cannot allow you to look forward to the happy ending that you picture. You say that you love me. I shall give you the opportunity to prove it to yourself, if not to me. I order you, Thérèse, to remain in this house until I come to set you free.” She stared at him for a moment, and then an odd smile came into her eyes. “A prisoner serving her time? Is that it, my husband?” “If you are here when I return, I shall have reason to believe that your love is real, that it is good and true and enduring. I am afraid of you now. I do not trust you.” “Is that your sentence?” “Call it that if you like, Thérèse.” “My keepers? Who are they to be? The old men of the sea----” “Your keeper will be the thing you call love,” said he. “Do you expect me to submit to this------” He held up his hand. “I did not intend to impose this condition upon you by word of mouth. I was going away without a word, but you would have received from Mr Dawes a sealed envelope as soon as the ship sailed. It contains this command in writing. He will hand it to you, of course, but now that you know the contents it will not be necessary to------” “And when you _do_ come back, am I to hope for something more than your pardon and a release?” she cried. “I will not promise anything,” said he. She drew a long breath and there was the light of triumph in her eyes. Laying her slim hand on his arm, she said: “I am content, James. I am sure of you now. You will find me here when you choose to come back, be it one year or twenty. Now go; they are waiting for you. Be kind to them, and tell to them all that you have just told me. It will make them happy. They love me, you see.” “Yes, they _do_ love you,” said he, putting his hands upon her shoulders. They smiled into each other's eyes. “Good-bye, Thérèse. I _will_ return.” “Good-bye, James. No, do not kiss me. It would be mockery. Good luck, and God speed you home again.” Their hands met in a warm, firm clasp. “I will go with you as far as the door of my prison.” From the open door she smiled out upon the young people in the motor and waved her handkerchief in gay farewell. Then she closed the door and walked slowly down the hallway to the big library. “He has taken the only way to conquer himself,” she mused, half aloud. “He is a wise man, a very wise man. I might have expected this of him.” She pulled the bell-cord, and Jones came at once to the room. “Yes, madam.” “When Mr Dawes and Mr Riggs return from the ship, tell them that I shall expect them to have luncheon with me. That's all, thank you.” “Yes, madam.” “By the way, Jones, you may always set the table for three.” Jones blinked. He felt that he had never behaved so wonderfully in all the years of service as he did when he succeeded in bowing in his habitual manner, despite the fact that he was “everlawstingly bowled over, so to speak.” “For three, madam. Very well.”