"Come and sit down on the stone again as we were before. It's better for us to talk and then we don't frighten ourselves with possibilities. After all, we can't _do_ anything, can we, so long as this horrid fog lasts? We must just sit here and wait for David." He sat down, put his arm around her as he had done before. The moment had come. He had only now to speak and the result was certain--the whole of his future life and hers. He knew so exactly what he would say. The words were forming on his lips. "Hesther dear, I've known you so short a time, but nevertheless I love you with all my heart and being. When you are rid of this horrible man will you marry me? I will spend all my life in making you happy----" And she, oh, without an instant's doubt, would say "Yes," would hide in his arms, and rest there as though secure, yes, utterly secure for life. But the battle was over. He would not begin it again. He clipped the words back and sat silent, one hand clenched on his knee. It was as though she were waiting for him to speak. Their silence was packed with anticipation. At last she said: "What is the matter? Is there something you're afraid of that you don't like to tell me? You needn't mind. I'm through my fear." "No, there's nothing," he answered. At last he said: "There _is_ one thing I'd like to say to you. I suppose I've no right to speak of it seeing how recently I've known you, but I guess this night has made us friends as months of ordinary living never would have made us." "Yes, you're right in that," she answered. He knew what she was expecting him to say. "Well, it's about Dunbar." He could feel her hand jump in his. "He loves you so much--so terribly. He isn't a man, I should think, to say very much about his feelings. I've only known him for an hour or two, and he wouldn't have said anything to me if he hadn't _had_ to. But from the little he did say I could see what he feels. You're in luck to have a man like that in love with you." She took her hand out of his, then, very quietly but very stiffly, answered: "But I've known him all my life, you know." "That's just why I'm speaking about him," Harkness answered. "It's rather strange to have the friend of your life explained to you by some one who has known him only for an hour or two." She laughed a little angrily. "But that's just why I'm speaking," he answered. "When you've known some one all your life you can't see them clearly. That's why one's own family always knows so little about one. You can't see the wood for the trees. In the first minutes a stranger sees more. I don't say that I know Dunbar as _well_ as you do--I only say that I probably see things in him that you don't see." They had been so close to one another during this last hour that he felt as though he could see, as through clear water, deep into her mind.