“It is no use,” resolutely. “Of course, I understand you have a certain power when you like, and that you are so confident because sooner or later you have always won. But that is just what fortifies me now. I don’t want to go into the old arguments. I want you to understand once for all that I _am_ fortified, and I _do_ mean what I say, and not all the loneliness in the world will change me. It is no use talking as you do, and hoping as you do, because there are barriers which neither of us could move, even if we were both agreed. Be sensible and be kind. It would be kind to leave me alone in future, and sensible to be content that you have, to a certain extent, broken down my hate.” “Content!—_content_!” and there was a low, vibrating passion in his voice that stirred her to her depths. “Content to give in when I have come within sight of my goal! Content to lose my wife for a whim—a prejudice—a quixotic idea of righting a wrong that, has long since been wiped out in the most satisfactory way in the world! Do you hear, Paddy?—_my wife_?—no, by God, because I choose to think of you like that now, I will not be content and I will not give in.” His violence frightened her, and she shivered a little. He saw it, and, with one of his swift changes, became suddenly penitent. “There—I didn’t mean to frighten you. You look quite bewildered, and so pale. I am a brute. Poor little woman. Don’t take any notice—don’t remember anything except that I won’t give in, because I know you are not as indifferent to me as you pretend, and also because you are lonely and forlorn.” His voice grew entrancingly gentle, “Patricia the Brave, Patricia the Independent, left out in the cold, and no one to realise that she feels it except the Mourne Lodge Bear. Mavourneen—mavourneen—bears have understanding when they love as I love you.” Big tears gathered in her eyes and splashed down unheeded on her hands. He leaned nearer, and a tremor passed through her. When he spoke in that enthralling, wholly gentle cadence, it was as though her thoughts and faculties became numb. It was as though solid ground were slipping away beneath her feet—branches breaking to which she was clinging for safety. She could only clutch with a spasmodic grasp at the grim spectre of her old resolve. She hid her face in her hands, staggered at the growing feebleness of her own resistance. “Paddy—dear little girl—my arms are still aching—_come_.” She sprang up, white and trembling. “Oh, Lawrence, please stop—I am not quite myself to-day. Let us go and look for the others.” He hesitated a moment, then said: