"Wait!" she exclaimed. "Do you realise what you're saying? Do you realise what you're offering to do for a girl--a lame girl--who is already in love with you?" His youthful face fell. "By gad," he said, "do you think I ought to marry her? How on earth can I when I'm--I'm dead in love with--somebody myself?" "You--in love?" she said faintly. He gazed across the brook at the darkening foliage. "Oh, yes," he said with a pleasant sort of hopelessness, "but I fancy she cares for another man." "W-why do you think so?" "He comes to see her." "Is that a reason?" "She won't talk about him." "When a woman won't talk about a man is it always because she cares for him in _that_ way?" "Isn't it?" "No." They had lifted their heads now, facing each other in the violet dusk. Between them the scent of heliotrope grew sweeter. He said: "I've been all kinds of a fool. For all I know women have as many rights on earth as men have. All I wish is that the plucky girl who took that hedge, banner in hand, were well and happy and married to a really decent fellow." "But--she loves you." "And I"--he looked up, encountering her blue eyes--"am already hopelessly in love. What shall I do?" She said under her breath: "God knows. . . . I can not blame you for not wishing to marry a lame girl----" "It isn't that!" "But you wouldn't anyhow----" "I would if I loved her!" "You _couldn't_--love a--a cripple! It would not be love; it would be pity----" He said slowly: "I wish that _you_ were that lame girl. Then you'd understand me." For a while she sat bolt upright, clasped hands tightening in her lap. Then, turning slowly toward him, she said: "I am going to say good-night. . . . And thank you--for Diana's sake. . . . And I am going to say more--I am going to say good-bye." "Good-bye! Where are you going?" "To New York." "When?" "Before I see you again." "There is no train until----" "I shall drive to Moss Centre." "Where that--that doctor lives----" "Yes. I am going to New York with him, Lord Marque." He stood as though stunned for a moment; then set his teeth, clenched his hands, and pulled himself together. "I think I understand," he said quietly. "And--I wish you--happiness." She stretched out her hand to him above the heliotrope. "I--wish it--to you----" suddenly her voice broke; again her teeth caught at her underlip like a child who struggles with emotion. "You--_don't_ understand," she said. "Wait a little while before you--come to any--unhappy--conclusions." After a moment she made a slight effort to disengage her hand--another--then turned in her chair and dropped her head on the table, her right hand still remaining in his. Presently he released it; and she placed both hands on the edge of the table and her forehead upon them. "I am coming in," he said. She straightened up swiftly at his words. "Please don't!" she said in a startled voice, still tremulous.