"What is the other?" she asked coldly.

"That--if you could ever learn to care for me--we might try--" He
stopped short.

For two years he had not ventured such a thing to her. The quick, bright
anger warned him from her eyes. But she said quietly: "You know that is
utterly impossible."

"Is it impossible. Shiela?"

"Absolutely. And a trifle offensive."

He said pleasantly: "I was afraid so, but I wanted to be sure. I did not
mean to offend you. People change and mature in two years.... I suppose
you are as angrily impatient of sentiment in a man as you were then."

"I cannot endure it--"

Her voice died out and she blushed furiously as the memory of Hamil
flashed in her mind.

"Shiela," he said quietly, "now and then there's a streak of misguided
decency in me. It cropped out that winter day when I did what I did. And
I suppose it's cropping up now when I ask you, for your own sake, to get
rid of me and give yourself a chance."

"How?"

"Legally."

"I cannot, and you know it."

"You are wrong. Do you think for one moment that your father and mother
would accept the wretched sacrifice you are making of your life if they
knew--"

"The old arguments again," she said impatiently.

"There is a _new_ argument," said Malcourt, staring at her.

"What new argument?"

"Hamil."

Then the vivid colour surged anew from neck to hair, and she rose in the
hammock, bewildered, burning, incensed.

"If it were true," she stammered, leaning on one arm, "do you think me
capable of disgracing my own people?"

"The disgrace will be mine and yours. Is not Hamil worth it?"

"No man is worth any wrong I do to my own family!"

"You are wronging more people than your own, Shiela--"

"It is not true!" she said breathlessly. "There is a nobler happiness
than one secured at the expense of selfishness and ingratitude. I tell
you, as long as I live, I will not have them know or suffer because of
my disgraceful escapade with you! You probably meant well; I must have
been crazy, I think. But we've got to endure the consequences. If
there's unhappiness and pain to be borne, we've got to bear it--we
alone--"

"And Hamil. All three of us."

She looked at him desperately; read in his cool gaze that she could not
deceive him, and remained silent.

"What about Hamil's unhappiness?" repeated Malcourt slowly.

"If--if he has any, he requires no instruction how to bear it."

Malcourt nodded, then, with a weary smile: "I do n