“I don’t know, but it seems to me that we weren’t meant to run away from things--hard things. If a man and a woman marry, they must accept their responsibilities--not evade them.” So absorbed was she in her trend of thought that she never realised how directly this speech must strike at Blaise himself. His face changed slightly. “You’re right, of course,” he said abruptly. “You--generally are. And if all women were like you, it would be easy enough.” His eyes dwelt with a curious intentness on the pure outline of her face; on the parted, tenderly curved lips, and the golden eyes with their momentary touch of the idealist and the dreamer. It seemed as if the quiet intensity of his regard drew her, for slowly she turned her head and met his gaze, flushing suddenly and faltering under it. The consciousness of him, of his nearness, swept her from head to foot, and it seemed to her as though now, in this moment, they were in closer touch, nearer understanding, than they had ever been. The dreamer and idealist vanished and it was all at once just sheer woman, passionate and wistful and tremulous, and infinitely alluring, that looked at him out of the golden eyes. With a stifled exclamation he caught her hands in his. “Beloved----” And the whole of a man’s forbidden, thwarted love vibrated in the word as he spoke it. Then he bent his head, and for a moment his lips were against her soft palms.... She stood very still and quiet when he had gone, realising in every quivering nerve of her that whatsoever the future might bring--even though Blaise might choose to shut himself away from her again as in the past and the dividing wall between them rise as high as heaven--she knew now, without any shadow of doubt or questioning, that he loved her. In the burning utterance of a single word, in the pressure of passionate, renouncing lips, the assurance had been given, and nothing could ever take it away again. She spread out her hands, palms upward, and looked at them curiously. CHAPTER XXIV--AN UNEXPECTED MEETING “HAVE you been _very_ bored, Nick?” The week in London had nearly run its course, and Lady Anne’s eyes begged charmingly for a negative. Nick accorded it with a smile. “I’m never bored with you, madonna; you know that,” he said. “And hotel life is always more or less amusing. One comes across such queer types. There’s one here this evening has been intriguing me enormously. At a little table by herself--do you see her? A tall, rather gorgeous-looking being--kind of cross between the Queen of Sheba and Lucretia Borgia.” Lady Anne threw a veiled glance in the direction indicated. “Yes, she’s a very handsome woman, obviously not English.” Her eyes travelled onwards towards the door. “I wish Blaise and Jean would hurry up,” she added impatiently. “They’re taking an unconscionable time to dress.”