And she heard him urging her with words that seemed to grow more and more musical until at last she was listening pleasurably to them. His nearness, his strength, his tenderness even--for where there was no struggle there seemed now no kind of brutality--were becoming sweet to her--just as the snow becomes warm and comforting to the wanderer who, sunk by the roadside, is about to cross the line of sleep and death beyond which is no waking, no resisting, no troubling any more. It was so good to yield, so easy to say the one word he was demanding with murmured reiteration. But she did not say it. She knew she must hold out, as the lier in the snow knows he must keep awake. “Keep awake!” The words themselves seemed part of a dream. She tried to put up her hands to thrust him away, but the impulse led to no more than a faint movement of her fingers. Then, as she opened her lips and no sound came his kisses fell on her mouth and throat, and her poor little struggle flickered out. She had said no word, but the thought came to her, as of a thing accomplished, “That’s over.... Of course ... I knew.... His wife--his wife. Always.” Whereupon the consciousness that he was still holding her reasserted itself and filled her with sudden horror and fear. Then miraculously--for she remembered nothing of the movement that released her--she found herself standing clear of Ordith. He had let her go. In the open doorway, upon which Ordith’s eyes were turned, stood Hugh, an amazed, embarrassed Hugh, who was saying, “Heavens! I’m sorry. I didn’t know ...” and hastily shutting the door. For the first time Ordith was at a loss. “Well?” he said. She sank down in a chair. “Please go away.” At his least movement towards her she sprang up, white and trembling, but calm of voice. “No.... I can’t bear it.... And please never come back--never.” “But you said----” “I said nothing.” “No--not said, but----” “Oh!” she exclaimed quickly; “I may have been wrong outwardly. But don’t blame me for having deceived you. You were never deceived.” He smiled at her as at a child momentarily in a foolish mood, and went out of the room. On the stairs he met Hugh. “I’m awfully sorry, sir. I had no idea.” Ordith laughed. “Nothing,” he said, “nothing at all.... By the way, there’s nothing official--no definite engagement as yet, so don’t go and worry her about it. Better act as if you hadn’t seen, unless she speaks to you of it.... You weren’t meant to see.” So Hugh was bound. Ordith went on his way to report to Mr. Fane-Herbert the development of the campaign. Together they considered the position and reassembled their forces after the not unexpected reverse. “The difficulty,” said Ordith, “is that she forbade me to see her again. Having regard to the standard of honour by which we live, that’s something of a tail-twister.” “You will, of course, continue to come to my house on my business. The rest follows in time.”