He was white, and so wrought up with excitement that she perceived that whatever problems she might be facing, the most pressing and the most dangerous was the barely suppressed frenzy of the young man before her--which frenzy, if not controlled and insulated, might bring about an explosion and cause half a dozen other explosions. “Come on,” she said, and led the way from the stack of trunks through the drawing-room, so recently the scene of unforgettable drama, into the study, where there was a heavy door that gave privacy and in which minor explosions could take place unheard. Jack closed the door, and stood with his back against it--a tense, white, haggard figure, made to seem all the more haggard by the contrast of the unemotional formality of evening clothes. “I was at dinner with father and Maisie Jones--she’s the girl they want to marry me to--and a few others, but I managed to give them the slip!” he said rapidly, by way of explaining his presence. “Tell me”--his burning eyes were fixed on her--“what do those trunks mean?” She told him the truth; not the whole of it, but what she did tell was true enough. “You’re not going to do anything of the sort!” he declared. “But we won’t argue that point now. First tell me this--why, in the name of God, when my father discovered you here at the Mordona two hours ago, did you admit that you were my mistress? Yes, and made me admit it!” She spoke quietly, hoping to calm him by her reasonable voice. “It began with your father’s mistaken conception of our relations. His mistake saved us. It would have been foolish not to have fallen in with his mistake. Surely you understand that?” “I didn’t understand it, and it made me sick!” he cried. “I backed you up, just because I knew you wanted me to. But I’m not going to stand any longer for this lying, this living in secret! I’m going to end it!” “End it? How?” “I’m not going to let my father, or any one else, think of you as my mistress! I’m going to tell him we’re married! And from now on everything’s going to be in the open!” She had never liked him more than just then. Whatever else he might be in the future, she would never be able to forget him as he was at this his highest moment--frenzied, outraged, dominated by reckless impulse. But she saw the danger to her dreams in this attitude. “It’s fine of you to say that, Jack, but you must not do it.” “Why not?” he demanded.