“Lucy, I can’t help it. His idea of woman is the harem idea. He doesn’t want you because you are too big and too good. She suits him better. They don’t want you. They don’t want us. We’ve only got each other. We need each other, Lucy. I would never have said a word or made a sign if he’d been square--if he’d appreciated you and wanted you. But you’ve wanted honesty in your relation with him, and he couldn’t stand it. He’s failed. He’s had his chance. You don’t owe him anything more, and I don’t. We’re free, Lucy. We’re free to take each other. My darling, if you knew how I love you----” His voice grew husky with emotion. Lucy rose again, pale as he. Jim sprang to her and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Lucy! You can’t, you shan’t leave me without saying you love me. I won’t allow you to let a convention rob you of my love. You’re mine, Lucy, mine, mine, mine!” and he strained her to him. For an instant her resistance was broken and she rested in his arms as though it were at last a place where she could be safe. Then she gently drew herself away and Jim sank into the chair beside her, his head in his hands. “I’m sorry,” she began in a shaking voice. “I believe you are a noble man, Jim. You stand for more to me now than anyone else in the world, but--I can’t. Poor Jim, I--I----” She was crying softly. Jim raised his head and looked at her. His eyes hungrily took in the rounded forehead, the straight nose, beautiful in profile, the ear set too high for harmony and spoiling the effect of the line of the jaw, the almost perfect mouth and chin, so appealingly feminine. His gaze devoured her eyes with their clear unflinching depths of honesty, suggesting little of sex as it is generally sought for by men; the brown of her hair with almost golden strands arranged, as always, low on her too generous brow and swept down over her ears with the exact curve that she instinctively knew would hide and pick out all the points that needed suppression or emphasis; her clear skin, so really white and delicate of texture as he knew by the glimpses her morning dresses had given him of her neck down by the shoulder and of the inner surface of her forearms; her hands and feet of normal efficient size, the hands with supple slender fingers widened at the tips; her body, the waist but moderately restricted and the bosom low, suggesting the long and willing nursing of her child--he knew her so well! Suddenly he groaned. Beads of cold moisture were on his brow. “I can’t give you up.” He spoke with difficulty. “Lucy, Lucy, he’s not fit for you!” Lucy did not try to hide the tears that coursed down her cheeks. “My whole life is yours,” he continued with suppressed intensity. Then, springing to his feet again he strode toward her. “Nothing can keep me away from you, Lucy!” he said hoarsely. She put out her hand and as it touched his breast he stopped. “I can’t, Jim! Oh, don’t you see I can’t?” she begged. Then she turned and went swiftly out of the office.