But I know that many women are good. Just at first, let me
confess, I was not sure how you were. At the Cafe Royal that night,
seeing you with all those funny people, I made a mistake. I thought,
'She is beautiful. She is audacious. She likes adventures. She wishes
an adventure with me.' And I came to Dick Garstin's thinking of an
adventure. But soon I knew--no! I heard you talk. I got to know your
cultivation, your very fine mind. And then you held back from me,
waiting till you should know me better. That pleased me. It taught me
the value of you. And when at last you did not hold back, were willing
to be alone with me, to lunch with me, to walk with me, I understood you
had made up your mind: 'He is all right!' But, best of all, you at last
asked me to your hotel, introduced me to the dear lady you live with. I
understood what was in your mind: '_She_, too, must be satisfied.' Then
I knew it was not an adventure. And when you told me first about your
sorrow! Ah! That was the great day for me! I knew you would not have
told such a thing, kept from even Dick Garstin, unless you put me in
your mind away from the others. That was a very great day for me!"

She shivered slightly by the fire. He was telling her things. She could
not in return tell him the truth of herself. Perhaps he really believed
all he had just said. And yet that shrewd glance he had given her by the
river and again in that room! What had it meant if now he had spoken the
truth?

"I knew then that you cared," he said, quietly and with earnest
conviction. "I knew then that some day I could ask you to marry me.
Anything else--it is impossible between you and me."

"Yes, of course! I never--you mustn't suppose--"

"I do not suppose. I know you as now you know me."

He did not touch her again, though, of course, he must know--any man
must have known by this time--his physical power to charm, even to
overwhelm her. His power over himself amazed her. It proved to her the
strength in his character. The man was strong, and in two ways. She
worshipped strength, but his still made her afraid.

"Now let us leave it," he said, with a change of manner. "It is getting
dark. It is dreary outside. I will shut the curtains. I will sing to you
in the firelight."

He went over to the windows, drew down the blinds, pulled forward the
curtains. She watched him, sitting motionless, wondering at herself and
at him. For the moment he was certainly her master. He govern