"No, no! It can't be. It is too beautiful, too good to be real. Not in this life. This life in which there is no peace--nothing that is--beautiful. Besides----" "Besides?" Again Vita shook her head. This time she gently released her hands. Ruxton contemplated her. Something in her manner was restoring his control of himself. "We cannot--we dare not think of--ourselves now," Vita went on. "A time may come when--but not now. We must not pause--nor step aside." Each word appeared to be an effort. It was as though she were fighting temptation in a forlorn hope. Ruxton saw it. He understood, and his whole Slavonic passion took fire again. Quite suddenly his two great hands fell upon the woman's rounded shoulders, and his strong fingers held the soft flesh firmly. Her face was turned up to his in a startled fashion, wondering but unresentful. His passion-lit eyes gazed deeply down into hers. "Vita, my Vita, these protests are not you. They are the brave and loyal spirit seeking to abnegate those selfish claims which in my case are irresistible. You--you will love me. You do love me! I can see it in your eyes--now. God, was there ever so wonderful a sight for man? Tell me. Forget all else and tell me of it. I am hungry--starving for the love you can give me. I will not wait. I dare not. I love you with all that is in me. I love you beyond all earthly duties and cares. Tell me all that lies behind your beautiful eyes, hidden deep down in your dear woman's heart." Vita was powerless. She was utterly powerless to resist the torrent of the love that leapt from him and overwhelmed her. All her protests died within her. She imperceptibly drew closer to him, and, in a moment, she lay crushed in his arms, her face hidden against his broad shoulder, the perfume of her hair intoxicating him still further. His head bent down against it and his lips rained caresses upon it. Then, in a second, one hand was raised and he lifted her face from its hiding-place so that his eyes gazed full upon it. Then, lower his face bent towards hers, and in a ravishing silence their lips met, and held for long, long moments. The evening shadows were softly drawing their veil about them. The plain little room had lost its crudeness of outline. Ruxton was seated in the armchair which had been set for him, and Vita was crouching curled up on the cushion on the floor close beside him. Ruxton was smoking now. He had been smoking for some minutes. Vita was listening to the voice she loved, and occasionally interrupted it with a question or comment. He had just completed the story of his success, and her delight in it had held the woman forgetful of those things she had yet to tell to him. But now, in the silence which had followed, a flood of recollection spread over her. She searched for a beginning with a brave desire to reveal as little of the disquiet which haunted her as possible.