“Can you doubt me?” He had both her hands now. He seemed so young, so eager. He would fight for what he greatly desired, as his father had fought before him. However crudely, boyishly, he would fight. “No”--her own voice was, surprisingly, a little unsteady--“of course I don' doubt you. But how can you know what you're going to wan'--years from now. I don' un'erstan' that. It does seem pretty romantic to me. I don't know for myself. I coul'n' tell.” This, or perhaps it was her failure to rise to his ecstasy, plunged him again into the depths. “It's you or nothing now,” he repeated. “You or nothing.” “Wha' do you mean by that?” “I've got to have you. If I can't, I'll--oh, I guess I'll just drop quietly overboard. What's the use?” “Do you think it's fair to talk li' that?” “Perhaps not, but--I guess I'm beside myself.” “Listen!” said she now: with a friendly, even sympathetic pressure of his trembling hands, “I'll tell you what I think. I think the thing for you to do is to go back to college.” This stung him. “How can you talk like that,” he cried, “when--” “I don' wan' to hurt you. But please try to think this as I wan' you to.” “Haven't you _any_ feeling for me?” “Of course, an' I'm ver' grateful.” “For God's sake, don't talk like that.” There was a pause. He withdrew his hands; plunged his feverish face into them. She rose, wearily. Said: “I'm going to try to sleep.” “And you could go? Leaving it like this?” “Please! I can't help--” “Oh, I understand--” he was on his feet before her; caught her arms in his hands that now were firm and young--“I haven't moved you yet, that's all. But I will. We Kanes aren't quitters. We don't give up. And I'm not going to give you up. I'm going to win you. Can't you see that I've got to? That I can't live.... Listen! You're the loveliest, daintiest little girl in the world. You're exquisite. Your voice is music to me. I've got to live my life to that music. It'll be beautiful! Can't you see that? I don't care how much time it takes. I'll settle down to it. But I'll win you. And we'll be married at Shanghai?” He was very nearly irresistible now. The power in him was real. She broke away; then, a surprise to herself, lingered. Strangely to her, this ardent, still somewhat impossible boy, with his vital, Western force, had actually created an atmosphere of romance in which she was, for the moment, and in a degree, enveloped. She knew, clearly enough, that she must exert herself to escape from it: but lingered. He caught her hands again; covered them with kisses; held them firmly while his eyes, suddenly radiant, sought hers and, during a moving instant, held them. She went below then. And Rocky dropped into the steamer chair and smiled exultantly as he drifted into slumber.