"Yes," assented Evelyn; "I shouldn't be afraid of harshness from you; but it seems impossible that I should change. You must see that you started handicapped from the beginning. Had I been free to choose, it might have been different; but I have lived for some time in shame and fear, hating the thought that some one would be forced on me." He said nothing, and she went on. "Must I tell you? You are the man." His face grew hard and for a moment he set his lips tight. It would have been a relief to express his feelings concerning his host just then. "If you don't hate me for it now, I'm willing to take the risk," he said at length. "It will be my fault if you hate me in the future; I'll try not to deserve it." He imagined she was yielding, but she roused herself with an effort. "No," she said. "Love on one side may go a long way, if it is strong enough--but it must be strong to overcome the many clashes of thought and will. Yours"--she looked at him steadily--"would not stand the strain." Vane started. "You are the only woman I ever wished to marry." He paused with a forcible gesture. "What can I say to convince you?" She smiled softly. "I'm afraid it's impossible. If you had wanted me greatly, you would have pressed the claim you had in saving Mopsy, and I would have forgiven you that; you would have urged any and every claim. As it is, I suppose I am pretty"--her lips curled scornfully--"and you find some of your ideas and mine agree. It isn't half enough. Shall I tell you that you are scarcely moved as yet?" It flashed upon Vane that he was confronted with the reality. Her beauty had appealed to him, but without rousing passion, for there was little of the sensual in this man. Her other qualities, her reserved graciousness, which had a tinge of dignity in it; her insight and comprehension, had also had their effect; but they had only awakened admiration and respect. He desired her as one desires an object for its rarity and preciousness; but this, as she had told him, was not enough. Behind her physical and mental attributes, and half revealed by them, there was something deeper: the real personality of the girl. It was elusive, mystic, with a spark of immaterial radiance which might brighten human love with its transcendent glow; but, as he dimly realised, if he won her by force, it might recede and vanish altogether. He could not, with strong ardour, compel its clearer manifestation. "I think I am as moved as it is possible for me to be," he said. Evelyn shook her head. "No; you will discover the difference some day, and then you will thank me for leaving you your liberty. Now I beg you to leave me mine and let me go."