He didn't glance through the trees at the dazzling glory. He'd had enough and too much of the old Canyon! He looked straight at Marise. And he walked straight to her, seizing both her hands, which resisted a little, then thought better of it and welcomed him. "Poor Tony!" she breathed. "Not 'poor Tony,' now I see you again," he said. "Marise, you're more beautiful than ever. You're the most beautiful thing on this globe. Where can we go, where a lot of huge windows won't be glaring at us like bulging eyes?" "There's nobody to glare through them," answered Marise. "My--_he_--isn't at home." "I know," said Severance. "That's why I hurried to you without stopping even to bathe and change. I wanted a talk with you before thrashing things out with Garth. 'Wanted'? That isn't the word! I thirsted, I burned for it. He's not in the house, but servants are. Marise, I've travelled six thousand miles, hardly resting--just for this moment--and others to follow--better moments. Give me one of the better ones now. I deserve a reward. And I can't take it here on this beastly terrace." Marise suddenly realised that nothing in the world would move her from the terrace. She was glad of the window-eyes. They were her protectors against--against--the man she had loved. The words spoke themselves in her head. She heard them. She was surprised at them. _Had_ loved! Didn't she love Tony Severance now? If not, why had she done all that she had done--so many wild, reckless things? It seemed that she was asking the question not of herself, but of the Canyon. The Canyon was like God. In the glittering, flaming, blue-shadowed depths of it was knowledge of Everything. "I think we must stay here," she said. "There is no other place where we can very well go. Would you--like to sit down on that seat by the wall?" "What I would like is to kneel at your feet with my arms round your waist and my head on your breast--your dear, divine breast," answered Severance. "Well--you can't!" she panted. "Tony, be sensible!" She sat down hastily, and Severance dropped beside her on the velvet-cushioned stone seat. He sat very close to the girl, and she edged slightly away. As she did so, he followed until she was pressed into the corner of the bench. He laid his arm along the back of the seat, and pressed her thinly-covered shoulder. "Please don't!" she whispered. Severance laughed out--a bitter laugh. "This is the way you greet me after all I've gone through to get to you--and to get you!" he said. "You know, I _am_ going to get you." Marise did not answer. She knew nothing of the kind. All she knew was, quite suddenly, that there was no longer any doubt in her mind on one subject. She did _not_ love Tony! She was sorry for him, and sorry for herself, and sorry for everything in the world. But she did not love him. She disliked having him touch her. "You _do_ know it, don't you?" he insisted. "No, I don't," she stammered. "There--there's nothing to know."