What, had he not triumphed then? Torment came ravening back at him again like a wild thing, and with a sudden burst and clamour, shaking him where he stood, old friend wind with that old hail--or mock?--of ha! ha! ha! in his ears. He said intensely: "You thought I would forget? While I was away you thought I would forget? Dora, you never thought it!" She stirred in his clasp to disengage herself: "No, no--before that. When we were together." He broke out: "Explain! Explain!" He let her from his arms and she stood away from him, stress on her face. "Oh, there is something I do not understand in this," he cried. "Explain--tell me." She told it him. "Percival, I was always to marry Rollo," she said. He stared at her. "How can you mean--always?" "I should have told you. I knew it." He pronounced in a terrible voice "Rollo!" Then he said thickly: "What, when you were with me--in those days, those days! You knew it? He had spoken to you then?" She caught her hands to her bosom in an action of despair. "No, no!" she cried; and then, "Oh, how can I explain?" and then found the word that helped her with force of a thousand words to name her meaning. "It was--holiday," she said. He remembered it. He remembered, and its memory came like a lamp to guide him. He said slowly, "When Rollo went--I remember you were different. Dora, do you mean it was always arranged you were to marry Rollo?" She said, "Always--always!" He cried, "But you loved me!" She wrung her hands at that, and cried in the most pitiful way, "I thought you would forget. I don't know what I thought. It was holiday. It should not have been. Oh, why must we talk of it?" "Dora, they are forcing you to marry him." "I was always to, Percival. I was always to." "You want to?" "Well, I was always to." Her voice was that of a child whose young intelligence by no means can take a lesson. Sufficient to one such that the thing is so as he sees it and cannot be otherwise; and to her sufficient--trained and schooled and cloistered for that sufficiency--that, as she said, she was always to. Ah, she had had holiday, but not enough to loose her; she had tossed among the flowers, but had fluttered home at nights. Now the mate she toyed with was knocking at her prison; she could see and could remember, but she could not fly. Quickly after the end of their months together, and very certainly after Rollo's return, she had discovered what long she had dimly seen. Clearly the purpose and the walls and the end of her training had been presented to her. Passively she had accepted them.