"Not a bit. To-day's the very day for it, and that's why you must answer to-day." A deeper note came into his words, deeper than he had commanded when he made love to Dora Hutting on these same downs not so very long ago. "I make love to you to-day because love's in your heart to-day. You're wanting to love; it's round about us, Eva." For an instant she saw in him a likeness she had never noticed before--a likeness to Sibylla: Sibylla's ardent all-demanding temper seemed to speak in his words. "Yes, this is the day--our day. And this day shall be the beginning or the end. You know the question. What's the answer, Eva?" He let go of her hands, and drew back two or three paces. He left her free; if she came to him, it must be of her own motion. "How very peremptory you are!" she protested. Her cheeks were red now, and the look of sorrow had gone out of her eyes. Her breath came quick, and when she looked at the sea the waves seemed to dance to the liveliest music. At sea and land she looked, at the sky and at the wintry sun; her glance touched everywhere save where Jeremy stood. "The answer!" demanded Jeremy. For a moment more she waited. Then she came towards him hesitatingly, her eyes not yet seeking his face. She came up to him and stood with her hands hanging by her side. Then slowly she raised to his face the large trustful eyes which he had known and loved so well. "The answer is Yes, Jeremy," she said. "For all my life and with all my heart, dear!" "I knew this was the right day!" cried Jeremy. "Oh, any day was right!" she whispered as she sought his arms. A couple of hours later he burst into Grantley Imason's room, declaring that he was the happiest man on earth. This condition of his, besides being by no means rare in young men, was not unexpected, and congratulations met the obvious needs of the occasion. Sibylla, who was there, was not even very emotional over the matter; the remembrance of Dora Hutting inclined her mind towards the humorous aspect--so hard is it to appreciate the changeful processes of other hearts. But Jeremy himself was excited enough for everybody, and his excitement carried him into forgetfulness of a solemn pledge which he had once given. He wrung Grantley's hand with a vigour at once embarrassing and painful, crying: "I owe it all to you! I should never have dared it except for the partnership that's coming, and that was all your doing. Without your money----" "Damn you, Jeremy," said Grantley in a quiet whisper, rescuing his hand and compassionately caressing it with its uninjured brother. The imprecation seemed to be equally distributed between Jeremy's two causes of offence, but Jeremy allocated it to one only. "Oh, good lord!" he said, with a guilty glance at Sibylla. "What money?" asked Sibylla. She had been sitting by the fire, but rose now, and leant her shoulder against the mantelpiece. Jeremy looked from her to Grantley.