“I don’t believe you,” he said. “You couldn’t. Nobody could.... I’ve been studying this--er--matter of love, and I am assured of my complete unfitness to arouse such an emotion.” Her heart misgave her. “Evan--you--you love me?” “I do,” he said, emphatically. “Most assuredly I do, but----” “Then it’s all right,” she said. “It’s not all right.... I don’t in the least believe you--er-- reciprocate my feeling for you.... You are--er--deceiving me for some reason.” “Evan--please--oh----” Her lips quivered and her voice became tearful. “You--you’re making it--terribly hard. Girls don’t usually have to--to argue with men to--to make them believe they love them.... You--you’re hurting me.” “I--er--have no intention of doing so. In fact I--I would not hurt you for--anything in the world.... As a matter of--of fact, I want to--prevent you from being hurt....” At this point he bogged down, the wheels of his conversation mired, and progress ceased. “Then,” demanded Carmel, “why do you make me do it?” “Do what?” “Propose to you, Evan Pell. It’s not my place. I have to do all the courting.... If you--you want me, why don’t you say so--and--and ask me to marry you?” “You--you’d marry _me_?” “I don’t know.... Not--I won’t say another word until you’ve asked me--as--as a man should.” He drew a deep breath and, bending forward, searched her face with hungry eyes. What he saw must have satisfied him, given him confidence, for he threw back his shoulders. “I can’t come to you,” he said, gently. “I want to come to you. I want to be close to you, and to tell you how I love you--how my love for you has changed my life.... I--my manner--it was because I couldn’t believe--because the idea that you--you could ever see anything in me to--to admire--was so new. I never believed you--could.... I--was satisfied to love you. But--Carmel--if you can--if some miracle has made you care for a poor creature like me--I shall--Oh, my dear!--it will make a new world, a wonderful and beautiful world.... I--I can’t come to you. Will you--come to me?” She drew closer slowly, almost reluctantly, and stood before him. His grave, starving eyes looked long into hers. “My--my dear!” he said, huskily, and kneeling upon the chair with his sound leg--in order to release his arms for more essential purposes, he held them out to her.... “Your arms are strong,” she said presently. “I had no idea.... You are very strong.” “I--exercise with a rowing machine,” he said.... And then: “Now we must think.... I didn’t much care--before. Now I have something to live for.” His words brought Carmel back to the realities, to the prison room in which they were locked, and to the men below stairs who had made them prisoners for their sinister purposes. “I have found Sheriff Churchill,” she said. “His body?” She nodded. “And this house is full of contraband liquor. Five big trucks--loaded....” “All of which is useless information to us here.” “What--do you think they will do with us?”