"Of course, you want money," he said. "That is the be-all and end-all of your existence. Very well. Write a letter to Miss Wynton apologizing for your conduct, take yourself away from here at three o'clock, and from St. Moritz by the next train, and I not only withdraw my threat to bar you in the profession but shall hand you a check for a thousand pounds." Millicent pretended to consider his proposal. She shook her head. "Not nearly enough," she said, with a sweetly deprecatory moue. "It is all you will get. I repeat that I am doing this to spare Helen's feelings. Perhaps I am ill advised. You have done your worst already, and it only remains for me to crush you. But I stick to the bargain--for five minutes." "Dear, dear!" she sighed. "Only five minutes? Do you get rid of your troubles so quickly? How nice to be a man, and to be able to settle matters with such promptitude." Bower was undeniably perplexed; but he held to his line. Unwavering tenacity of purpose was his chief characteristic. "Meanwhile," he said, "let us talk of the weather." "A most seasonable topic. It was altogether novel this morning to wake and find the world covered with snow." "If the Maloja is your world, you must have thought it rather chilling," he laughed. "Yes, cold, perhaps, but fascinating. I went for a walk. You see, I wanted to be alone, to think what I should do for the best. A woman is so helpless when she has to fight a big, strong man like you. Chance led me to the cemetery. What an odd little place it is? Wouldn't you hate to be buried there?" It was now Millicent's turn to be surprised. Not by the slightest tremor did Bower betray the shock caused by her innuendo. His nerves were proof against further assault that day. Fear had conquered him for an instant when he looked into the gate of darkness. With its passing from before his eyes, his intellect resumed its sway, and he weighed events by that nicely adjusted balance. None but a man who greatly dared would be sitting opposite Millicent at that moment. None but a fool would have failed to understand her. But he gave no sign that he understood. He refilled his glass, and emptied it with the gusto of a connoisseur. "That is a good wine," he said. "Sometimes pints are better than quarts, although of the same vintage. Waiter, another half bottle, please." "No more for me, of course," murmured Millicent. "I must keep my head clear,--so much depends on the next five minutes." "Three, to be exact." "Ah, then, I must use them to advantage. Shall I tell you more about my early stroll?" "What time did you go out?" "Soon after ten o'clock." "You saw--what?" "A most exciting struggle--and--what shall I call it?--a ceremony."