Yes, she understood. Yet she felt as if he had raised a barrier between them which nothing could ever take away. She tried to ignore it, but could not. The glaring fact that he had not cared how much or how little she had desired those savage kisses of his had begun already to torment her, and she knew that she would carry the scorching memory of those moments with her for the rest of her life. She drew herself slowly from him. "I am going now," she said. He put out a hand that trembled and laid it on her shoulder. "If I will let you go, Avery!" he said, and she was again aware of the leaping of the flame that had scarcely died down but a moment before. She straightened herself and resolutely faced him. "I am going, Piers," she said. His hand tightened sharply. He caught his breath for a few tense seconds. Then very slowly his hold relaxed; his hand fell. "You will let me see you back," he said, and she knew by his voice that he was putting strong force upon himself. She turned. "No. I will go alone." He did not move. "Please, Avery!" he said. Her heart gave a quick throb at the low-spoken words. She paused almost involuntarily, realizing with a great rush of thankfulness that he would not stir a step to follow unless she gave him leave. For an instant she stood irresolute. Then: "Come if you wish!" she said. She heard him move, and herself passed on, descending the steps into the dewy garden with again that odd feeling of unreality, almost as if she walked in a dream. He came behind her, silent as a shadow, and not till she deliberately waited for him did he overtake and walk beside her. No words passed between them as they went. They seemed to move through a world of shadows,--a spell-bound, waiting world. And gradually, as if a soothing hand had been laid upon her, Avery felt the wild tumult at her heart subside. She remembered that he had refrained himself almost at her first word, and slowly her confidence came back. He had appealed to her to understand, and she could not let his appeal go wholly unanswered. As they passed at length through the gate that led into the Vicarage lane, she spoke. "Piers, I am not angry." "Aren't you?" he said, and by the eager relief of his voice she knew that her silence had been hard to bear. She put out a hand to him as they walked. "But, Piers, that--is not the way to make me love you." "I know--I know," he said quickly; and then haltingly: "I've been--so beastly lonely, Avery. Make allowances for me--forgive me!" He had not taken her hand; she slipped it into his. "I do," she said simply. She felt his fingers close tensely, but in a moment they opened again and set her free. He did not utter another word, merely walked on beside her till they reached the Vicarage gate. She thought he would have left her there, but he did not. They went up the drive together to the porch.