He did not follow her. There was that about her that made it impossible just then. He had not thought that she had the strength so to dominate the situation. It had been completely in his own hands, but somehow it had passed out of his control. Wherefore? The sight of her weakness had made the conquest seem so easy that he had almost despised her for it. And now? He turned sullenly from her, took up a glass and drank. After many seconds he spoke. “The last time I saw you, you gave me to understand that it was only your pride that kept you from marrying me. That is not the reason you want to back out now.” “I gave you my reason then,” she made answer, without turning. “I did not love you.” “You loved me once,” he rejoined, “before you threw me over.” She uttered a short, hard sigh. “I hadn’t even begun to know the meaning of the word.” He flung round savagely. “There’s someone else in the field. I suspected it before. Who is it? That maniac at Tetherstones?” She leaned forward a little further to the glow. “It doesn’t really matter,” she said. “Even if it were so, it wouldn’t really count, would it?” “It would not,” he rejoined curtly. “So why discuss it?” said Frances. Her weariness sounded again in her voice, but there was no weakness with it, rather a species of solitary majesty upon which he could not intrude. Yet, baffled, he still sought to penetrate her defences. “You loved me once,” he repeated doggedly. “What did I ever do to forfeit your love?” She turned suddenly as she sat, and faced him, pale, with burning eyes of accusation. “I will tell you what you did. You desecrated my love. You killed it at birth. You treated me then—as you are treating me now—dishonourably. You gave me stones for bread, and you are doing it still. I think you are incapable of anything else. Love—real love—is out of your reach!” The fire of her words scorched him; he drew back. “Gad!” he said. “If you’d lived in the old days, you’d have been burnt as a witch.” “There are worse fates than that,” she answered very bitterly. “There are!” he returned with a flash of anger. “And hotter hells! Well, you’ve made your conditions. I accept them. You are free to go.” He flung the words with a force and suddenness that struck her like a blow. She sat for a few moments, staring at him. Then, with an effort, she rose. “Do you mean that?” He came close to her. His face was drawn. Somehow she felt as though she were looking at an animal through the iron bars of a cage. He spoke, between his teeth. “Yes, I mean it. I will let you go—just to show you that—as you kindly remarked just now—I am not—all—beast. But—I hold you to your promise. Is that understood? You will marry me.” She lifted her head with a certain pride. “I have said it,” she said, and turned from him. He thrust out a hand and grasped her shoulder. “You will say it again!” he said.