the worst, I want to get the worst over and--and live out my
life quietly somewhere.... So now you see why I am in such a hurry, don't
you?"

He nodded as though stunned, leaning there on the table, hands folded,
head bent.

"I am so very sorry--for you," she said. "I know how you must feel about
it. But if we are obliged to marry some time had we not better get it
over and then--never--see--one another----"

He lifted his head, then stood upright.

Her soft lips were mute, but the question still remained in her eyes.

So, for a long while, they looked at each other; and the color under his
cheekbones deepened, and the pink in her cheeks slowly became pinker.

"Suppose," he said, under his breath, "that I--wish--to return--to you?"

"_I_ do not wish it----"

"Try."

"Try to--to wish for----"

"For my return. Try to wish that you also desire it. Will you?"

"If you are going to--to talk that way--" she stammered.

"Yes, I am."

"Then--then----"

"Is there any reason why I should not, if we are engaged?" he asked. "We
_are_--engaged, are we not?"

"Engaged?"

"Yes. Are we?"

"I--yes--if you call it----"

"I do.... And we are to be--married?" He could scarcely now speak the
word which but a few moments since he pronounced so easily; for a totally
new significance attached itself to every word he uttered.

"Are we?" he repeated.

"Yes."

"Then--if I--if I find that I----"

"Don't say it," she whispered. She had turned quite white.

"Will you listen----"

"No. It--it isn't true--it cannot be."

"It is coming truer every moment.... It is very, very true--even now....
It is almost true.... And now it has come true. Sybilla!"

White, dismayed, she gazed at him, her hands instinctively closing her
ears. But she dropped them as he stepped forward.

"I love you, Sybilla. I wish to marry you.... Will you try to care for
me--a little----"

"I couldn't--I can't even try----"

"Dear----"

He had her hands now; she twisted them free; he caught them again. Over
their interlocked hands she bowed her head, breathless, cheeks aflame,
seeking to cover her eyes.

"Will you love me, Sybilla?"

She struggled silently, desperately.

"_Will_ you?"

"No.... Let me go----"

"Don't cry--please, dear--" His head, bowed beside hers over their
clasped hands, was more than she could endure; but her upflung face,
seeking escape, encountered his. There was a deep, indrawn breath, a sob,
and she lay, cryin