"I feel completely dull and stupid," he said heavily. "I can't explain myself at all. I'm sorry I offended you." "You needn't be," Helen's voice was light. "It's all right. It didn't occur to me that a mere colour effect would unnerve you." "I'm not temperamental as a rule," Geoffrey said sombrely. "But I'm conscious of a painful and lovely tie between us. It wasn't only the colour effect; it was dinner and the whole evening, and driving with you, a frightful strain the whole time. Listen, Helen," he leaned forward. "I've only known you for an hour or two, but do you think you could marry me sometime. It seems idiotic to say I love you, but I do. I want to marry you desperately, and do you realise that for all I know you may be engaged to someone else." Geoffrey broke off abruptly. He no longer felt tired, a deep exhilaration was creeping over him, and he experienced an almost savage foretaste of triumph as he said urgently: "Helen, you will marry me, won't you?" Helen shook her head. All the colour had drained slowly from her cheeks, and the little mark beside her mouth stood out hot and scarlet. She put a finger up to it and felt it gently. "No," she answered, "I won't marry you, Geoffrey. There is a queer link between us. I felt it the first minute we met, but I won't marry you; at least not now. I might in ten years if my work fails me, but not now. You see it is important to me; I love it, and I feel I'm going to do something good, and whatever anyone may say I'm certain it's impossible to work decently and be married as well." "I don't believe it is," said Geoffrey strongly. "Frankly I've never thought about it, but I'm perfectly sure we could do it." "No we couldn't; no one can." "Helen, you must marry me. It seems to me utterly impossible that you should refuse to. And that's not conceit, it's simply that I know we ought to be together, you and I." Helen smiled a little wanly. "I didn't think it was conceit, and if I could marry anyone it would be you, but I can't, don't you see. It would be like walking into a cage, and with my eyes open too. The minute I got in and heard the doors shut on me I'd go mad with terror till I got out again." "You're wrong. It wouldn't be like that, not with us, Helen." "It would. Look at us now, Geoffrey. A minute ago you were nearly dead with weariness and I was bursting with vitality and now I'm nearly dead, and you're alive again." "My love, that only shows. Of course now as things are we fight each other and exhaust each other, but if we were married, it wouldn't be like this, we'd both be quite admirably stimulated all the time." "No, we shouldn't," Helen shook her head again. "One of us would be completely on top, and the other would have to give up everything, and I might easily be the other!" "That's not fair. I don't want you to give up anything; I only want you to marry me."