She leaned against him, physically unable to resist, and deep down in her heart glad that she could not. For the moment everything was swept away in an anguish of happiness--in the ecstasy of burning kisses crushed against her mouth and throat and the strained clasp of arms locked round her. "My woman!" he muttered unsteadily. "My woman!" She could feel the hard beating of his heart, and her slender body trembled in his arms with an answering passion that sprang from the depths of her being. Forgetful of everything, save only of each other and their great love, their lips clung together. Presently he tilted her head back. Her face was white, the shadowed eyes like two dark stains on the ivory bloom of a magnolia. "Beloved! . . . Nan, say that you love me--let me hear you say it!" "You know!" Her voice shook uncontrollably. "You don't need to ask me, Peter. It--it _hurts_ to love anyone as I love you." His hold tightened round her. "You're mine . . . mine out of all the world . . . my beloved. . . ." A flare of lightning and again the menacing roll of thunder. Then, sudden as the swoop of a bat, the electric burners quivered and went out, leaving only the glow of the fire to pierce the gloom. In the dim light she could see his face bent over her--the face of her man, the man she loved, and all that was woman and lover within her leaped to answer the call of her mate--the infinite, imperious demand of human love that has waited and hungered through empty days and nights till at last it shall be answered by the loved one. For a moment she lay unresisting in his arms, helpless in the grip of the passion of love which had engulfed them both. Then the memory of the shadows--the sentinels with drawn swords--came back to her. The swords flashed, cleaving the dividing line afresh before her eyes. Slowly she leaned away from his breast, her face suddenly drawn and tortured. "Peter, I must go back--" "Back? To Trenby?" Then, savagely: "You can't. I want you!" He stooped his head and she felt his mouth on hers. A glimmer of pale firelight searched out the two tense faces; the shadowy room seemed listening, waiting--waiting-- "I want you!" he reiterated hoarsely. "I can't live without you any longer. Nan . . . come with me . . ." A tremulous flicker of lightning shivered across the darkness. The dead electric burners leaped into golden globes of light once more, and in the garish, shattering glare the man and woman sprang apart and stood staring at each other, trembling, with passion-stricken faces. . . . The long silence was broken at last, broken by a little inarticulate sound--half-sigh, half-sob--from Nan. Peter raised his head and looked at her. His face was grey. "God!" he muttered. "Where were we going?" He stumbled to the chimneypiece, and, leaning his arms on it, buried his face against them. Presently she spoke to him, timidly. "Peter?" she said. "Peter?"