ns satisfactorily.
But there was nothing--so she told herself--to be gained by waiting.
She had no one to advise her, no one really to mind what happened to
her, with the single exception of this friend of hers, who only
wanted to take care of her. And after all, since misery was to be her
portion, what did it matter? Why should she refuse to listen to him?
Had he not shown her already that he could be kind?

A sudden warmth of gratitude towards him stirred in her heart--a tiny
flame springing up among the ashes of her youth. Her horror sank away
like an evil dream.

She turned round with a certain deliberation that had grown upon her
of late, and went back to Nick still seated on the sofa.

"I don't care much what I do now," she said wearily. "I will marry
you, if you wish it, if--if you are quite sure you will never wish you
hadn't."

"Well done!" said Nick, with instant approval. "That's settled then,
for I was quite sure of that ages ago."

He smiled at her quizzically, his face a mask of banter. Of what his
actual feelings were at that moment she had not the faintest idea.

With a piteous little smile in answer she laid her hand upon his knee.
"You will have to be very patient with me," she said tremulously. "For
remember--I have come to the end of everything, and you are the only
friend I have left."

He took her hand into his own again, with a grasp that was warm and
comforting. "My dear," he said very kindly, "I shall always remember
that you once told me so."

CHAPTER XI

THE FIRST FLIGHT

Muriel lay awake for hours that night, going over and over that
interview with Nick till her tired brain reeled. She was not exactly
frightened by this new element that had come into her life. The very
fact of having something definite to look forward to was a relief
after dwelling for so long in the sunless void of non-expectancy. But
she was by no means sure that she welcomed so violent a disturbance at
the actual heart of her darkened existence. She could not, moreover,
wholly forget her fear of the man who had saved her by main force from
the fate she would fain have shared with her father. His patience--his
almost womanly gentleness--notwithstanding, she could not forget
the demon of violence and bloodshed that she knew to be hidden away
somewhere behind that smiling, yellow mask.

She marvelled at herself for her tame surrender, but she felt it to
be irrevocable nevertheless. So broken was she by