"If we do succeed," went on Evarne, "I shall owe all my happiness to you, and so will Geoffrey, though he won't know it. I shall be grateful to you for ever and ever, and I shall look after you all your life, Philia. Now, listen carefully. Morris said that if he had found me already his cousin's wife--if our marriage had been an accomplished fact--then--very likely--he would of his own accord have remained silent forever concerning what he knows. He entirely repudiated the idea that his determination to betray me is prompted by any spite or hatred. As it is, he has promised to hold his peace until Wednesday evening. Very well, before that time I mean to be Geoffrey's wife." "Goodness gracious to me, what a notion!" "It's absolutely my last resource. It's my one chance; my only hope. I shall persuade Geoff to take me abroad immediately, so that Morris cannot straightway tell him my secret in a sudden outburst of rage. If he writes, I shall see that Geoff doesn't get the letter. Oh, I know it's leading me through vile deceitful tracks, but having started, I must go on. But I wish I'd never started, Philia. That's Heaven's truth. I wish I'd never started! Ah, well! Besides--once I am Geoffrey's wife, the keeping of this secret becomes a matter of life or death to me." "But if the snake chose to tell after yer was safely married, 'e couldn't do no 'arm then, could 'e?" "No harm? Oh, Philia! If Geoffrey once reproached me for entrapping him--if I heard him regret his marriage--if he ever expressed half a wish that he could be free again, then, why then, there would be but one course open to me. I should kill myself." Philia started. "Don't talk of sich a thing," she almost wailed; "don't plan it in cold blood like that. It's mad and wicked." "Who says it's wicked?" "Why, everybody knows it is."