love between us. Now tell me ... look in my eyes and tell me,
Stanor ... _do_ you want me?"

But he could not face her. He wrenched himself free of her grasp,
turned towards the mantelpiece, and with a groan buried his face in his
hands.

"Pixie, you ... you shame me ... you cover me with shame! I ought to
have known that I could not deceive you. ... You are not the sort to be
deceived. ... It's worse than you think. ... When the temptation came,
I could have kept out of the way ... she wanted me to keep away, but I
wouldn't do it. I followed her wherever she went--I--you'd better know
the whole truth, and then you'll understand the kind of fellow I am.
It's not my fault that I wasn't married months ago, that you didn't read
it in the papers without a word of preparation! That's what I wanted
... what I proposed. It was she who refused. It is her doing that I
_am_ here to-day. She would have nothing to say to me till I had asked
you first.--I wanted to stay on in America, settle down there, and keep
out of the way--"

He had spoken with his face hidden; now, as he finished speaking, he
remained in the same position, and not a sound came to his ears but the
ticking of the clock in the corner. He might have been alone in the
room; a miserable conviction seized him that he _was_ alone, that
between himself and the girl by his side there had arisen an
impenetrable wall.

As for Pixie she had promised not to be angry, but it appeared to her at
that moment that she had never before known what anger meant. It burned
within her--a flame of indignation and wounded faith, a throwing back on
herself of all the arduous mental battles of the last few days. Never,
even to herself, had Pixie acknowledged that she had learned to love
Stephen Glynn. That it hurt her to know of his love for her; hurt
intolerably to see him depart, were truths which could not be ignored,
but while Stanor lived and was faithful it was impossible even to
contemplate love for another man. Pixie had enough knowledge of her own
nature to realise that she could be happy in giving Stanor a happiness
which he could only gain through her. It was as natural to her to be
happy as for a flower to lift its face in the sun, but for both the sun
was needed. A more introspective soul would have realised that there
were degrees in happiness, and that she would be missing the best; Pixie
with characteristic simplicity accepted what seemed to her the