"I wonder," she smiled, but had to control the tremor of her lower lip by catching it between her teeth and looking away from the man beside her. Quickly the hint of tears dried out in her gray eyes--from whatever cause they sprang glimmering there to dim her eyesight. She bent her head, absently arranging, rearranging and shifting her bridle. "The thing to do," he said, curling his long moustache with powerful fingers--"is for the Wycherlys to stand by us now--and the others there--that little Lacy girl--and Sir Charles if he chooses. We'll have to take the whole lot of them aboard I suppose." "Suppose I go with you alone," she said in a low voice. He started in his saddle, turned on her a face that was reddening heavily. For an instant she scarcely recognised him, so thick his lips seemed, so congested the veins in forehead and neck. He seemed all mouth and eyes and sanguine colour--and big, even teeth, now, as the lips drew aside disclosing them. "Would you do that, Strelsa?" "Why not?" "Would you do it--for me?" Her rapid breathing impeded speech; she said something inarticulate; he leaned from his saddle and caught her in his left arm. "By God," he stammered, "I knew it! You can have what you like from me--I don't care what it is!--take it--fill out your own checks--only let's get out of here before those damned women ruin us both!" She had strained back and aside from him, and was trying to guide her mare away, but his powerful arm crushed her and his hot breath fell on her face and neck. "You can have it your own way I tell you--I swear to God I'll marry you----" "What!" Almost strangled she wrenched herself free, panting, staring; and he realised his mistake. "We can't get a licence if we leave to-night," he said, breathing heavily. "But we can touch at any port and manage that." "You--you _would_ take me--permit me to go--in such a manner?" she breathed, still staring at him. "It's necessity, isn't it? Didn't you propose it? It makes no difference to me, Strelsa. I told you I'd do anything you wished." "What did you mean--what did you mean by--by--" But she could go no further in speech or thought. "The thing to do," he said calmly, "is not to fly off our heads or become panic-stricken. You're doing the latter; I lost control of myself--after what you gave me to hope--after what you said--showing your trust in me," he added, moistening his thick dry lips with his tongue. "I lost my self-command--because I _am_ crazy for you, Strelsa--there's no sense in pretending otherwise--and you knew it all the time, you little coquette! "What do you think a man's made of? You wanted a business arrangement and I humoured you; but you knew all the while, and I knew, that--that I am infatuated, absolutely mad about you." He added, boldly: "And I have reason to think it doesn't entirely displease you, haven't I?" She did not seem to hear him. He laid his gloved hand over hers, and recoiled before her eyes as from a blow.