“But indeed, it is no use speaking to Colin. I have promised----” “Do you care for this man?” he interrupted her. “I have promised to marry him in the hope of helping him, and I shall keep my promise.” “You don’t care for him. You have not even that hold over him, and how do you think you can do him any good?” “He thinks I can, and I have promised. I am bound by that promise unless George Ferrers himself gives me release, and he won’t.” “I’ll wring it out of him.” The growl, like that of an angry lion, terrified Penelope. She laid her hand on her champion’s arm. “Major Keeling, I ask you--I entreat you--to do nothing. It is my own fault. Elma Haigh warned me against Captain Ferrers, and if I had listened to her, I should never have renewed my promise. But it is given, and I must keep it. One can’t wriggle out of a promise because it turns out to be hard to keep. You would not do it yourself; why should you think I would?” He took her hand and held it between his. “Do you ask me,” he said slowly, “to stand by, and see you give yourself to a man who at his best is well meaning, but generally isn’t even that? It’s not as if you cared for him. You might manage to be happy somehow if you did, but as it is----” “Don’t make it harder for me,” entreated Penelope. “Am I doing that? Heaven knows I don’t want to, unless I could make it so hard you couldn’t do it. Why, it’s preposterous!” he broke out again. “That you should feel bound to sacrifice yourself----” “Is a promise a sacred thing to you? You know it is. So it is to me. I must keep it, but you can make it much harder to do.” “I will do anything in the world that will help you.”