Meanwhile, to Ronnie, it seemed incredible that he should find the courage to tell her his thoughts; incredible that this vivid, radiant creature, alone with him in the intimacy of his own dwelling-place, should be willing to listen to them. Then, without warning, thought broke to words. "All the same, I oughtn't to have let you come." "Why not? I--I wanted to." "Because----" The fire in his eyes blinded her. She heard, as through the maze of sleep, steady tick-tick-tick of the clock on the mantelpiece, sizzle of the kettle-flame, the hoot and drone of traffic from the street below. She heard, as a sleeper awakened, the throb of her own heart. She felt tears, tears of sheer joy, close to her eyes. "Because?" she whispered back. "Because I love you. Because I can't trust myself with you. Because you're"--he was on his feet now--"because you're not mine. And I want you to be mine." "Ronnie! Ronnie!" Still mazed, she stretched out a hand to him. He seized her hand; and pressed it to his lips, to his eyes. "Aliette--my dearest--sweetest--I'm behaving like a cad to you. I----" Speech died at his lips; he stood before her, tense, tongue-tied--her hand held, like a shield against her beauty, before his eyes. She knew passion kindling in her, kindling them both to madness; knew the flames of desire a-leap between them; knew the overpowering impulse to immolate herself in the flames of desire. "My dear," he whispered, "my dear." Then, as in a dream, she divined that the flames leaped no more, that he had mastered passion, that he had fallen to his knees, that he was covering her hand with kisses. "Forgive me," she heard, "forgive me. I'm not that sort of cad. I didn't think, just because you came to my rooms----" "Don't, don't." Her free hand fondled his hair. "You mustn't kneel to me. Please, please----" He rose, her hand still in his; and she drew him down beside her. "Ronnie----" She would have looked into his eyes, but his eyes avoided her. "Ronnie, I don't want you to think, either now or ever, that it's caddish of you to--to love me. I--I need your love. I need your love more than I can ever tell you." His hand trembled at her words. "I'm very lonely, and I'm afraid--I'm afraid that I'm very weak. You're the only person in the world who can help----" "Then----" His eyes turned to hers, and she saw hope light in them. "Then, you _do_ love me." "Yes. I love you." She laughed--a little strained laugh that was almost a caress. "I oughtn't to say that, I suppose." "Oh, my dear"--now he had prisoned both her hands--"why shouldn't you say it? No--no harm shall ever come to you from me." "I know that." Her voice grew almost inaudible. "Otherwise--I shouldn't be here." "No harm shall ever come to you from me," he repeated--and fell silent.