“Well, lately it _has_ been rather lonely. It’s hard to get used to Rosamund’s not being here.” She crossed the room to the sofa and sat down in the corner of it, Rion taking a chair near her. As she patted her skirt into satisfactory folds, she said, her eyes fixed on her arranging hand, “It takes a person a long time to get used to some one they care for going so far off. I sometimes wonder if they ever do.” He looked at her, murmuring some casual response, his mind not on his words. Against the sheer white of her dress a locket she wore suspended round her neck by a narrow black velvet, caught and lost the light as her breast rose and fell. He was conscious of its regular gleam, of the darkness of her hand against the white folds of her skirt, of the slim smallness of her figure reclining in the angle of the sofa. Another pause fell between them, this time uncomfortable with a sense of extreme constraint; June’s hand ceased moving and joined its companion in her lap. She raised her eyes timidly and met his, intent, motionless, fixed deeply upon her. The locket rose brightly into the light on a sharply caught breath. “Why did Black Dan send the Colonel into Empire?” she faltered. “Do you remember what I asked you more than two years ago in San Francisco?” was his answer. She tried to temporize and said nervously, “Two years back is a long way to remember.” “I asked you to marry me, and you said no. Do you remember?” She nodded. “I’m going to ask you the same thing again.” “Oh, Rion!” she murmured in an imploring undertone. “I can only say the same things I said then. I’m not a smooth talker, like some of the men you’ve known. I want you for my wife, and I’ll do everything I can to make you happy. That’s about the whole thing.” She rose with some broken words he did not catch and passed round behind the sofa, where she stood, her hand resting on the back, her face averted. He rose, too, but made no attempt to approach her. “I don’t know much about women,” he continued. “I don’t know how to talk to them. You’re the only one of them I’ve ever felt this way to; and I’m pretty sure I’ll never feel so to any other. I love you. I’ve tried to stop it and I can’t. It’s stronger than I am.” She made no reply, and after waiting a moment, he said, his voice slightly hoarse: “Well, say something to me.” “I don’t know what to say,” she murmured, her face turned away. He made a step toward the sofa, and as she heard him, she drew back as if frightened. He stopped instantly, regarding her with a sudden frowning fixity of suspicion and anger. “Don’t you care for me, June?” he said. “Yes, yes, of course--so much, so much more than I used to. But, Rion--” She turned and looked at him, one of her hands raised as if to ward him off. He started forward to seize the hand, but she quickly drew it back and clasped it round the locket. “Not that way,” she faltered, “not the way you want.” “Are you going to say no to me again?”