"I promised him to give myself as long a time as he wished to learn whether I could ever come to love him." "Does he know you are in love?" "No." "What would he do if he knew?" Stephanie began to tremble: "I—don’t know," she stammered, "—he must never think that I am in love with Jim..... It would be—dreadful—terrible——" She sat up, covering her face with both hands: "Don’t ask me! Don’t talk about it! There are things I can’t tell you—things I can’t do, no matter what happens to me—no matter whether I am unhappy—whether Jim is——" "Don’t cry, darling. I didn’t mean to hurt you——" "Oh, Helen! Helen! There’s something that happened which I can’t ever forget. It terrifies me. There’s no way out of this marriage for me—there’s no way! No way!" she repeated desolately.... "And I’m so deeply in love—so deeply—deeply——" She flung herself on her face and buried her head in her arms. "Just let me alone," she sobbed. "I can’t talk about it. I—I’m glad you’re happy, dear. But please go out, now!" Helen rose and stood for a moment looking down at the slender figure in its jewelled kimono and its tumbled splendour of chestnut hair. Then she went out very quietly. On the porch her audacious young man and Cleland were smoking and consulting time-tables, and she gave the former a swift glance which questioned his intentions. He seemed to comprehend, for he said: "It’s Jim. He’s been talking to Oswald on the long distance wire, and he’s going down to town to see the model that Oswald has made." "Are _you_ going, too?" she asked. "Not until you do," he said boldly. Helen blushed furiously and glanced at Cleland, but he had not paid them any attention, apparently, for he rose with an absent air and went into the house. "Steve!" he called from the foot of the stairs. "I’m going to town to-night, if you don’t mind." There was no answer. He ran lightly up the stairs and glanced through her door, which was partly open. Then he went in. She did not hear him, nor was she aware of his presence until she felt his questioning hand on her tumbled hair. Then she turned over, looked up into his anxious face, stretched out her arms to him in a sudden passion of loneliness and longing, and drew him convulsively to her breast with a little sob of surrender. And the next instant she had slipped through his arms to the floor, sprung to her feet, and now stood breathing fast and unevenly as he rose, half dazed, to confront her. "Jim," she said unsteadily, "I had better go back. I’m losing my head here with you—here under dad’s roof. Do you hear what I say? I can’t trust myself. I can’t remain here and tear dad’s honour to shreds just because I’ve gone mad about you.... I’m going back." "Where?" "To Oswald." "What!"