ttle bits--no standing
still."

Then, suddenly, he felt her hand in his, the fingers lacing, twining
restlessly amongst his own; and again the half-choked voice said:

"But you WILL let me see you sometimes! You must!"

Hardest of all to stand against was this pathetic, clinging, frightened
child. And, not knowing very clearly what he said, he murmured:

"Yes--yes; it'll be all right. Be brave--you must be brave, Nell. It'll
all come right."

But she only answered:

"No, no! I'm not brave. I shall do something."

Her face looked just as when she had ridden at that gravel pit. Loving,
wild, undisciplined, without resource of any kind--what might she not
do? Why could he not stir without bringing disaster upon one or other?
And between these two, suffering so because of him, he felt as if he had
lost his own existence. In quest of happiness, he had come to that!

Suddenly she said:

"Oliver asked me again at the dance on Saturday. He said you had told
him to be patient. Did you?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I was sorry for him."

She let his hand go.

"Perhaps you would like me to marry him."

Very clearly he saw those two going round and round over the shining
floor.

"It would be better, Nell."

She made a little sound--of anger or dismay.

"You don't REALLY want me, then?"

That was his chance. But with her arm touching his, her face so pale
and desperate, and those maddening eyes turned to him, he could not tell
that lie, and answered:

"Yes--I want you, God knows!"

At that a sigh of content escaped her, as if she were saying to herself:
'If he wants me he will not let me go.' Strange little tribute to her
faith in love and her own youth!

They had come somehow to Pall Mall by now. And scared to find himself
so deep in the hunting-ground of the Dromores, Lennan turned hastily
towards St. James's Park, that they might cross it in the dark, round
to Piccadilly. To be thus slinking out of the world's sight with the
daughter of his old room-mate--of all men in the world the last perhaps
that he should do this to! A nice treacherous business! But the thing
men called honour--what was it, when her eyes were looking at him and
her shoulder touching his?

Since he had spoken those words, "Yes, I want you," she had been
silent--fearful perhaps to let other words destroy their comfort. But
near the gate by Hyde Park Corner she put her hand again into his, and
again her voice, so clear, said:

"I don't