went on, suddenly fierce, "and you must love me. _Dagny!_"

Bending, he kissed her.

She herself had killed his boyish shyness, his youthful hesitation,
all the boy's natural fear of repulsion.

He was the man, she the woman. He dominated, she submitted; he was
strong, she was weak; he was big, she was small.

"Oh, why----" she stammered, as he released her.

"Because--it is the only way. You could always have beaten me at
talking----"

"You had no right to kiss me."

"I think I had. If a woman has a right to torment a man as you
tormented me, he surely has a right to take whatever means he can
of--getting even. Women are so brutal----"

He had found, she felt, the solution to the Eternal riddle.

Her heart was beating furiously, but her voice, as she went on, was
cool enough.

"Look here, Teddy, I will tell you the truth about all this. Will you
believe me?"

After a second's hesitation he answered, curtly: "Yes."

"Well--you are right. I mean your--method is right. It never occurred
to me before that--well, that turn about is fair play. Women are
brutes--particularly, perhaps, the good ones who flirt."

Cleeve laughed. "'The good ones who flirt.' Go on!"

"And I suppose you were, in a way, entitled to use against me the only
weapons you had. You see, I am quite frank. Only--you used them too
soon. I don't love you. Probably, if we had been together a week
longer, I should have, but--I do _not_ love you at this minute."

"Wait till I'm gone," he observed, with his horrible young wisdom.

She frowned. "That has nothing to do with it. You leave here to-morrow
morning, and on Friday you sail. And I do not love you. I am sorry for
having hurt you. Believe this."

"I don't believe it. I'm not sorry, and I don't believe you are.
Listen--the others are coming. Run back to the house, and I'll go and
meet them. And first--let me kiss you again."

The voices, still afar seemed discordant in the white stillness.

Cleeve opened his arms. "Come. Then I shall believe you." Lady Harden
took a step forward, and held her face bravely to his.

Then, just as he bent his head, she turned and hid her face on his
arm. "I cannot," she whispered.

The Boy-Man's lips were set hard, his brows drawn down.

"Ah, Dagny, dearest," he whispered, "and I must go to-morrow."

She looked up. "You have won; I have lost; thank God you go
to-morrow!" she answered.

A moment later she was speeding through the shadows toward th