he said to gain time.

For a moment he again contemplated force--the primitive male always
hesitates to compromise where his codes are threatened. There was a
dangerous gleam in his eyes; a ferocious curl of his lips--it would be
such a simple matter and it would end for ever the nonsense that he
could not tolerate.

Mary-Clare leaned back in her chair. She was so absolutely unafraid
that she quelled Larry's brute instinct and aroused in him a dread of
the unknown. What would Mary-Clare do in the last struggle? Larry was
not prepared to take what he recognized as a desperate chance. The
familiar and obvious were deep-rooted in his nature--if, in the end,
he lost with this calm, cool woman whom he could not frighten, where
could he turn for certain things to which his weakness--or was it his
strength--clung?

A place to come to; someone peculiarly his own; his without effort to
be worthy of. Larry resorted to new tactics with Mary-Clare at this
critical moment. The smile faded from his sneering lips; he leaned
forward and the manner that made him valuable to Maclin fell upon him
like a disguise. So startling was the change, that Mary-Clare looked
at him in surprise.

"Mary-Clare, you've got me guessing"--there was almost surrender in
the tone--"a woman like you doesn't take the stand you have without
reason. I know that. Naturally, I was upset, I spoke too quick. Tell
me now in your own way. I'll try to understand."

Mary-Clare was taken off guard. Her desire and sore need rushed past
caution and carried her to Larry.

She, too, leaned forward, and her lovely eyes were shining. "Oh! I
hoped you would try, Larry," she said. "I know I'm trying and put
things in a way that you resent, but I have a great, a true reason, if
I could only make you see it."

"Now, you're talking sense, Mary-Clare," Larry spoke boyishly. "Just
over-tired, I guess you were; seeing things in the dark. Men know the
world better than women; that's why some things are _as_ they are. I'm
not going to press you, Mary-Clare, I'm going to try and help you. You
_are_ my wife, aren't you?"

"Yes, oh! yes, Larry."

"Well, I'm a man and you're a woman."

"Yes, that's so, Larry."

Step by step, ridiculous as it might seem, Mary-Clare meant, even now,
to keep as close to Larry as she could. He misunderstood; he thought
he was winning against her folly.

"Marriage was meant for one thing between man and woman!"

This came out triumphantly. Then