"And I?" he said, very low. "Does my unhappiness count for nothing? I'm paying too. God knows, I wish we had never met." Never to have met! Not to have known all that those months of friendship and a single hour of love had held! The words brought a sudden awakening to Diana--a new, wonderful knowledge that, cost what they might in bitterness and future pain, she would rather bear the cost than know her life emptied of those memories. She had ceased crying. After a few moments she spoke with a gentle, wistful composure. "I was wrong, Max. You're not to blame--you couldn't help it any more than I could." "I might have gone away--kept away from you," he said tonelessly. A faint, wintry little smile curved her lips. "I'm glad you didn't." "Diana!" He sprang forward impetuously. "Do you mean that?" She nodded slowly. "Yes. Even if--if we can't ever marry, we've had . . . to-day." A smouldering fire lit itself in the man's blue eyes. He had spoken but the bare truth when he had said that warmer blood ran in his veins than that of the cold northern peoples. "Yes," he said, his voice tense. "We've had to-day." Diana trembled a little. The memory of that fierce, wild love-making of his rushed over her once more, and the primitive woman in her longed to yield to its mastery. But the cooler characteristics of her nature bade her pause and weigh the full significance of marrying a man whose life was tinged with mystery, and who frankly acknowledged that he bore a secret which must remain hidden, even from his wife. It would be taking a leap in the dark, and Diana shrank from it. "I must have time to think," she repeated. "I can't decide to-day." "No," he said, "you're right. I've known that all the time, only--only"--his voice shook--"the touch of you, the nearness of you, blinded me." He paused. "Don't keep me waiting for your answer longer than you can help, Diana," he added, with a quiet intensity. "You'll go away from Crailing?" she asked nervously. He smiled a little sadly. "Yes, I'll go away. I'll leave you quite free to make your decision," he replied. She breathed a sigh of relief. She knew that if he were to remain at Crailing, if they were to continue seeing each other almost daily, there could be but one end to the matter--her conviction that no happiness could result from such a marriage would go by the board. It could not stand against the breathless impetuosity of Max's love-making--not when her own heart was eager and aching to respond. "Thank you, Max," she said simply, extending her hand. He put it aside, drawing her into his embrace.