"Yes, precisely--to-day. My mistake--my selfishness, has been very painfully brought home to me in the last hour; and I don't ask it of you--I demand it." Honor drew herself up to her full height. "You cannot command it, though," she said quietly. "And--I refuse." The hot blood mounted to his temples, but he shut his teeth to keep back hasty speech. Then, as the silence grew and deepened between them, anger gave place to an unbounded admiration. They were standing now face to face, beside the mantelpiece, exactly as they had stood on that eventful April afternoon a year ago. The memory came to them simultaneously; and each saw the light of it spring into the other's eyes. Honor's face softened. "You remember," she urged. "I see that you remember; and the arguments you admitted then hold even more strongly now. Besides--you said I had earned the right----" "So you have--ten times over since then. But to-day I see my duty to Ladybird so clearly, that no one--not even you--must stand in the way of it. You would realise better how I feel, if you had heard her pitiful excuses. She was 'dull.' She was 'lonely.' I had 'all those men,'--so I had. She was right, poor child! Truth is, my life is so richly filled with 'all those men,' that I sometimes wonder if I was justified in bringing a woman into it at all. But having done so, I'm bound to take her where she won't be tempted to entangle herself with cads like Kresney, just because she feels dull and lonely. That's the source of half the catastrophes one hears of in this country; and in nine cases out of ten I blame the husband more than the wife. You see, I happen to believe that when a man takes a woman's life into his hands, he makes himself responsible not only for her honour, but for her happiness and well-being. I'm not setting up a standard for other fellows, remember. I am simply stating my own by way of explanation." Honor's eyes shone with a very tender light. "I can only say that Evelyn is--a singularly fortunate woman. If most men held such views there would be ninety per cent fewer marriages in the world." "Possibly. But that doesn't put me in the wrong. Now, I have set the picture before you as I see it----" "Yes, with the core of it left out,--the loss to you and to the Regiment." "Oh, hang it all!" Desmond protested with an embarrassed laugh. "One's bound to leave out something. That's the whole art of making a decent picture! But it strikes me we've had enough of argument. Whether I have convinced you or not, Honor, you _must_ let me off that promise." The girl held her breath, nerving herself for a last desperate stand. "Forgive me, if you know how, Theo," she said; "but I cannot--I will not give up my right to save you from yourself." Desmond simply raised his head and looked at her, as though he could not believe that he had heard aright; and when at last he spoke, his voice had the level note of authority which she had been dreading to hear.