"Perhaps I had better go." His tone, however, somehow implied more of a threat than a suggestion; for since they had exchanged that fleeting glance Cyril had felt unreasonably reassured. Despite her coldness, the memory of her tender entreaties for his speedy return, buoyed up his conceit. She could not be as indifferent to him as she seemed, he argued to himself. However, as the moments passed and she offered no objection to his leaving her, his newly-aroused confidence evaporated. "She does not want me!" he muttered to himself. "I must go." But he made no motion to do so; he could not. "I can't leave her till I know how I have offended her.... There are so many arrangements to be made.... I must get in touch with her again,--" were some of the excuses with which he tried to convince himself that he had a right to linger. He tried to read her face, but she had averted her head till he could see nothing but one small, pink ear, peeping from beneath her curls. Her silence exasperated him. "Why don't you speak to me? Why do you treat me like this?" he demanded almost fiercely. "It is a little difficult to know how you wish to be treated!" Her manner was icy, but his relief was so intense that he scarcely noticed it. "She is piqued!" he cried exultingly in his heart. "She is piqued, that is the whole trouble." He felt a man once more, master of the situation. "She probably expected me to--" He shrank from pursuing the thought any further as the hot blood surged to his face. He was again conscious of his helplessness. What could he say to her? "Oh, if you could only understand!" he exclaimed aloud. "I suppose you think me cold and unfeeling? I only wish I were!... Oh, this is torture!" She seemed startled by his vehemence, for she looked up at him timidly. "Can't you trust me?" he continued. "Won't you tell me what has come between us?" Two big tears gathered in her eyes. The sight was too much for Cyril. Right and wrong ceased to exist for him. He forgot everything; stooping forward he gathered her into his arms and crushed her small body against his heart. She thrust him from her with unexpected force and stood before him with blazing eyes. "You cannot treat me like a child, who can be neglected one day and fondled the next! I won't have it! At the nursing home I was too weak and confused to realise how strangely you were behaving, but now I know. You dare to complain of my coldness--my coldness indeed! Is my coldness a match to yours? Why do you suddenly pretend to love me?" He interrupted her with a vigorous protest. "If you do, then your conduct is all the more inexplicable. If you do, then I ask you, what is it, who is it, that stands between us?" "If I could tell you, don't you suppose I would?" declared Cyril. "Then there is some one, some person who is keeping us apart!" "No--oh, not exactly." "Ah, you see, you can't deny it! There is another woman in your life. I know it! I felt it!"