“Never put things this way before?” He was amazed. He burst out laughing. “Really, my dear, this is too ironic. I had given you up: I had given you a free hand to marry. I was prepared to lose you permanently rather than stand even temporarily in your way. But you did not marry. What did that mean? I didn’t know. How could I? But what should keep me from hoping? Any fool may do that. At least there was the circumstantial evidence that you had not married. That is why I came to-night, Marcia. I came to ask you to marry me. To plead with you. For the first time I was prepared to sacrifice you for my own desire--altogether. And now, when I am acting my most selfish self, for the first time you see the sacrificial mood that I was in before!” She placed her arms about him. “Strange contradictory dear.... You shall have me, dearest. Wait and see how soon. I think I never wanted you quite so much.” “Marcia!” “Don’t let your feelings blind you to reason, Tom. _Our_ feelings. You don’t want a wife. If I was rich--or you were--even then, would you want a wife? You want _me_. I you. Without alloy, dear. I’ll marry King.” She smiled brightly. “Do you know why I put it off? Because I thought it might mean real captivity. It must have, Tom--without you, there, to rescue me. Oh,” her face darkened, “I could not stand the thought of him without the antidote!” She was silent, brooding. Her eyes seemed full of the picture of her life with the dull rich man. It stifled her, blinded. “I could not have stood it, Tom. I can now! Without you, it must have meant prison. Now, it means release--adventure. Yes!” She seemed to be emphasizing her resolve--bringing it clear before her eyes to see it. “You’ll see that I am game. I am almost happy.” She sank down in her chair, and smiled at him; tears kept her from seeing how he smiled a bit wistfully away. She needed to be silent. If for no other reason, for the tears. She wanted to ask him simply: “Do you _love_ me, Tom? For Tom, if you did _love_ me....” She did not dare her question. She did not dare, even in her silence, to conclude it. She was afraid of his answer. Both for him and for her she was afraid. Both of his “yes” and his “no.” After all, her mind faded and veered, she had better marry King. It would be going on. She was dry-eyed. Tom took her hand and kissed it. * * * * * “What do I really mean by all these things I do?” When Tom was alone his question came often, came without answer. When he was with David, it hurt and these things he did were like ash in his mouth. But even the hurt was better than the reverberating silence. So Tom fled solitude. But what of David? What did he want of David? Was he glad of him or bitterly, passionately sorry? Did he want him close or far away? His acts and moods, were they designed to hold or to repel him?