Her voice sounded breathless and there was a forced lightness in her tone which did not escape him. He bent a little over her. "It does not matter," he said. "You look troubled. Is there anything wrong?" She laughed. "Nothing." He hesitated, and then went on slowly: "There is one matter I want to speak to you about, Beatrice. It is the matter of--our engagement. I think you are wrong to wish it kept secret. I think it can only bring trouble and misunderstanding. Will you not allow me to tell every one?" The white satin slipper stopped its regular tattoo on the rugged floor. She lifted her face to his and looked him full in the eyes. "You think it was foolish and unreasonable to wish no one to know? But I had my reasons--very good reasons. I wanted the retreat kept clear for you." "Retreat--for me?" "Yes, for you. Captain Stafford, why did you ask me to be your wife?" He drew himself stiffly erect. "I told you at the time," he said sternly. "I was quite honest. I told you that the best a man can bring the woman he marries is not in my power to give you. It was--shipwrecked some time ago." "Not so very long ago," she corrected. "That does not matter. The point is that I believe it in my power to make you happy--at any rate, it would always be my ambition to see you so; and therein I should no doubt regain a great deal that I have lost--" "But you do not love me, Captain Stafford?" "I have just said that I have lost the power of loving." For a moment she was silent, her jeweled hands resting wearily on the arms of her chair, her eyes sunk to the ground. "You made me an honorable proposal, Captain Stafford," she said at last. "You are an honorable man and inspire me with the desire to be honorable also. Won't you take back your freedom while there is yet time?" "No." "There are others--good women among whom you would find one who would love you as you deserve. I do not love you. All I can bring is a certain respect and friendship--that is all." "I am grateful for so much," he said. He was thinking of Lois, and his voice sounded hard and compressed. "If I marry you it will be because I must." He nodded. "Yes, I am aware of that." "Aware of that?" she said, looking up into his haggard face. "How should you be 'aware of that?' Is my private life so public then?" "You misunderstand me," he said, striving to cover up what he felt to have been a wanton piece of brutality. "I only mean, you must for the same reason that I must--because circumstances have linked us inseparably together, and because--" He broke off. The tall figure of the Rajah had passed the alcove and he had seen Beatrice sink back in her chair. As the figure moved on she broke into one of her harsh, jarring laughs. "Good heavens, Captain Stafford," she exclaimed, "your arguments haven't a leg to stand on! What are you marrying me for?"