"My God!" he said passionately. "Can I put--that--into words?" She clung to him, but she was trembling. There was that about him at the moment that startled her. She was in the presence of something terrible, something she could not fathom. There was more than rapture in his passion. It was poignant with a fierce defiance that challenged all the world. She lay against his breast in silence while the storm that she had so unwittingly raised spent itself. Then at last as his hold began to slacken she took courage. She laid her cheek against his hand. "Ah, don't love me too much at first, darling," she said. "Give me the love that lasts!" "And you think my love will not last?" he said, his voice low and very deep. She softly kissed the hand she held. "No, I didn't say--or mean--that. I believe it is the greatest thing that I shall ever possess. But--shall I tell you a secret? There is something in it that frightens me--even though I glory in it." "My dear!" he said. She raised her lips again to his. "Yes, I know. That is foolish. But I don't know you yet, remember. I have never yet seen you angry with me." "You never will," he said. "Yes, I shall." Her eyes were gazing into his, but they saw beyond. "There will come a day when something will come between us. It may be only a small thing, but it will not seem small to you. And you will be angry because I do not see with your eyes. And I think the very greatness of your love will make it harder for us both. You mustn't worship me, Everard. I am only human. And you will be so bitterly disappointed afterwards when you discover my limitations." "I will risk that," he said. "No. I don't want you to take any risks. If you set up an idol, and it falls, you may be--I think you are--the kind of man to be ruined by it." She spoke very earnestly, but his faint smile told her that her words had failed to convince. "Are you really afraid of all that?" he asked curiously. She caught her breath. "Yes, I am afraid. I don't think you know yourself, your strength, or your weakness. You haven't the least idea what you would say or do--or even feel--if you thought me unkind or unjust to you." "I should probably sulk," he said. She shook her head. "Oh, no! You would explode--sooner or later. And it would be a very violent explosion. I wonder if you have ever been really furious with any one you cared about--with Tommy for instance." "I have," said Monck. "But I don't fancy you will get him to relate his experiences. He survived it anyway." "You tell me!" she said. He hesitated. "It's rather a shame to give the boy away. But there is nothing very extraordinary in it. When Tommy first came out, he felt the heat--like lots of others. He was thirsty, and he drank. He doesn't do it now. I don't mind wagering that he never will again. I stopped him." "Everard, how?" Stella was looking at him with the keenest interest. "Do you really want to know how?" he still spoke with slight hesitation.