“You _can’t_!” Helen mocked him. “Ah, but you can, my dearest! Listen to reason. Your aunt wants it above all earthly things. She will be happy herself and endow you richly if you do what will pay for itself without her help. Father is a winning card; you’ll hold him. You’ll be playing in luck every day, with him up your sleeve. And I? Haven’t I proved what I can be on the chummy tack? Haven’t you had a good time with me lately, though I kept down and out of sight everything really worth while? How could you have a better travelling pal, or a hostess to back up your game in the embassy, or at Washington? And the other side of me, the lover, the wife? Oh, Kit, I’ll play that part till you’ll be drunk with happiness! Am I not a princess? Haven’t you said so? Just look at what is here for your taking!” Kit was compelled to meet her eyes. He stared at her and stood transfixed. “Ah, Kit!” Helen purred. “Why can’t you marry me?--_can’t_, forsooth! I haven’t told you that I love you, but I do! I want you, Kit, and no one else, though I can have any one else on call. Are you imagining yourself in love with the girl Latham has chosen? Nonsense, Kit! That was the stirring of fancy, not love! What could make you forget that surface scratch like real love, love for me, _me_, your wife? When you learn what love is, as I will teach you, Kit, how absurd all trifles will seem! Keep your eyes on mine, Kit, you young sun god, and then tell me, if you can, why you will not marry me? Are you afraid of love, Kit, as a girl is afraid? But not I, oh, not I! I’m not afraid to take what I want, what wants me! Tell me, now as you stand looking at me, why you who are strong, and young, and free, and able to love, would throw away this Helen who will not let you go! Who will _not_!” Kit had retreated farther, but he could not take his eyes from Helen. There was left in him no power to think; only to feel. Helen had thrown herself against a tree; she was looking up at him, her eyes like glowing coals, feline, compelling. Her face was white, her lips parted by her quick breathing. She was irresistible, yet as Kit’s will swayed to her, he blindly struggled against her. There was in him no sense of attraction nor of repulsion; all the ages which had preceded him fought on Helen’s side, drew the youth to the woman. Yet in Kit’s veins some beautiful inheritance from sweet, patient, chastened women, as well as the ideal which he had formed, and to which he could not then consciously revert, stood him in good stead. He bent toward Helen and she lifted her arms to him. Then he stepped backward, and muttered hoarsely: “Helen, help me! You are mad!” “I’ll help you, Kit! Oh, Kit, it’s for your dear sake, as well as for my own that I want you! I swear this is true. But how I do want you, want you, want you, _want_ you!” She went over to him and knelt, laying her glorious head at his feet.