ew we could not go on living as we have been. I want you for my
wife. You cannot object. The obstacles you mentioned no longer exist."

Grace started to her feet. There was a note of defiance and alarm in her
voice as she replied:

"If I must stay here and die here, I will. God's will be done. But I
will live as I think is right, as I would live anywhere else. Being
here alone with you makes no difference."

He folded his arms and looked at her boldly.

"It does make a difference," he said slowly and firmly. "We are here--a
man and a woman--alone on a desert island amid the eternal silence of
the mighty ocean. There are only two of us. We are all the world to each
other. Our future days must be spent together in the closest intimacy.
We cannot go on living as though we were strangers. It isn't natural.
You ought to be able to see that. The objections you mentioned would
keep us apart under ordinary conditions, but here the conditions are
altogether different. You are no longer the courted heiress, the society
favorite. You are a woman and I am a man. The artificial conventions to
which you cling have no place on this island. Here we are living amid
primitive conditions. Nature gave woman to man--she was intended to be
his mate, his companion. I assert my rights as the male."

He spoke harshly, in a tone of command, as if he allowed her to have a
say in the matter, but intended to have his way in the end, after all.

Grace found herself listening passively. She wondered why she did not
burst out with indignation when he thus disposed of her as if she were
his goods, his chattel. Yet, secretly, it pleased her to have him assume
this tone of ownership. The men in society who had fawned upon her were
tame, weak, despicable creatures, ready to lick her hand for a smile.
This was a real man. He gave her orders. He told her what he wished her
to do, and he said she must do it. As she listened to his rich, musical
voice she thought to herself that, after all, he was right. Sooner or
later it must come to that. The years would pass. They would get old
together. Would it not be more natural, would not their lives be happier
if they mated and had children to be the joy of their reclining years?

Armitage boldly took her hand. She did not resist. She had not the
strength. This man had strangely paralyzed all her will-power.

He drew her fiercely to his breast and whispered ardently:

"I love you, Grace! I love you!"

His