Her eyes were raised to his, grey and steady and fearless. Not by the smallest gesture did she seek to escape him. She suffered the hands upon her shoulders. She suffered the fiery passion of his gaze. Only at last very clearly, very resolutely, she spoke. "Piers--no!" His face was close to hers, glowing and vital and tensely determined. "I say 'Yes,'" he said, with brief decision. Avery was silent. His hands were drawing her, and still she did not resist; but in those moments of silent inactivity she was stronger than he. Her personality was at grips with his, and if she gained no ground at least she held her own. "Avery!" he said suddenly and sharply. "What's the matter with you? Why don't you speak?" "I am waiting," she said. "Waiting!" he echoed. "Waiting for what?" "Waiting for you to come to yourself, Piers," she made steadfast answer. He laughed at that, a quick, insolent laugh. "Do you think I don't know what I'm doing, then?" "I am quite sure," she answered, "that when you know, you will be more ashamed than any honourable man should ever have reason to be." He winced at the words. She saw the hot blood surge in a great wave to his forehead, and she quailed inwardly though outwardly she made no sign. His grip was growing every instant more compelling. She knew that he was bracing himself for one great effort that should batter down the strength that withstood him. His lips were so close to hers that she could feel his breath, quick and hot, upon her face. And still she made no struggle for freedom, knowing instinctively that the instant her self-control yielded, the battle was lost. Slowly the burning flush died away under her eyes. His face changed, grew subtly harder, less passionate. "So," he said, with an odd quietness, "I'm not to kiss you. It would be dishonourable, what?" She made unflinching reply. "It would be despicable and you know it--to kiss any woman against her will." "Would it be against your will?" he asked. "Yes, it would." Firmly she answered him, yet a quiver of agitation went through her. She felt her resolution begin to waver. But in that moment something in Piers seemed to give way also. He cried out to her as if in sudden, intolerable pain. "Avery! Avery! Are you made of stone? Can't you see that this is life or death to me?" She answered him instantly; it was almost as if she had been waiting for that cry of his. "Yes, but you must get the better of it. You can if you will. It is unworthy of you. You are trying to take what is not yours. You have made a mistake, and you are wronging yourself and me." "What?" he exclaimed. "You don't love me then!"