s
now."

"In the beginning it was only a boy and girl affair."

"It was all my heart had room for."

"And now?"

"You fill my heart and mind as always. But you know that."

"I thought--perhaps--not seeing you--"

"Clive!"

"--Other men--other interests--" he muttered obstinately, and so like
a stubborn boy that, for a moment, a pale flash from the past seemed
to light them both, and she found herself smiling:

"A girl must go on living until she is dead, Clive. Even if you went
away I'd continue to exist until something ended me. Other men are
merely other men. You are you."

"You darling!"

But she turned shy instantly, conscious now of his embrace, confused
by it and the whispered endearment.

"Please let me go, Clive."

"But I love you, dear--"

"Yes--but please--"

Again he released her and she stepped back, retreating before him,
until the lounge offered itself as refuge. But it was no refuge; she
found herself, presently, drawn close to his shoulder; her flushed
cheek rested there once more, and her lowered eyes were fixed on his
strong, firm hand which had imprisoned both of hers.

"If you can stand it I can," he said in a low voice.

"What?"

"Marrying me."

"Oh, Clive! They'd tear us to pieces! You couldn't stand it. Neither
could I."

"But if we--"

"Oh, no, no, no!" she protested, "it would utterly ruin you! There was
one woman there to-night--very handsome--I knew she was your mother.
And I saw the way she looked at me.... It's no use, Clive. Those
people _are_ different. They'd never forgive you, and it would ruin
you or you'd have to go back to them."

"But if we were once married, there _are_ friends of mine who--"

"How many? One in a thousand! Oh, Clive, Clive, I know you so
well--your family and your pride in them, your position and your
security in it, your wide circle of friends, without which circle you
would wander like a lost soul--yes, Clive, lost, forlorn, unhappy,
even with me!"

She lifted her head from his shoulder and sat up, gazing intently
straight ahead of her. In her eyes was a lovely azure light; her lips
were scarcely parted; and so intent and fixed was her gaze that for a
moment he thought she had caught sight of some concrete thing which
held her fascinated.

But it was only that she "saw clearly" at that moment--something that
had come into her field of vision--a passing shape, perhaps, which
looked at her with curious, friendly, inquiring eyes,--