ed her as
much by what he did not do as by what he did. And it had always been so
ever since she had known him. The assurance in his quiet was enormous.
How many things he must have carried through in his life, the life of
which she knew absolutely nothing! But this--would he carry through
this? She tried to tell herself with certainty that he would not. And
yet, as she looked at him, she was not sure. Will can drown will. Great
power can overcome lesser power, mysteriously sometimes, but certainly.
That play of which she had read an account in the _Westminster Gazette_
was founded on the possibilities, was based upon a solid foundation. To
the ignorant it might seem grotesque, incredible even, but not to those
who had really studied life and the eddying currents of life. In life,
almost all that is said to be impossible happens at times, though
perhaps not often. And who knows, who can say with absolute certainty,
that he or she is not an exception, was not born an exception?

As Miss Van Tuyn watched Arabian drawing the curtains across the windows
which looked upon the Thames she did not know positively that she would
not marry him. She remembered her sensation under his kiss. It had been
a sensation of absolute surrender. That was why she had shut her eyes.

She might shut her eyes again. He might even make her do that.

After the curtains were drawn, and only the light from the fire lit up
the room, Arabian went over to the piano, a baby grand, and sat down on
the music-stool. He was looking very grave, almost romantically grave,
but quite un-self-conscious. She wondered whether, even now, he cared
what she thought about him. He showed none of the diffidence of the
not-yet-accepted lover, eager to please, anxious about the future. But
he showed nothing of triumph. The firelight played over his face as he
struck a few chords. She wondered whether his manservant was with them
in the flat, or whether they were quite alone--shut in together. He
had not offered her tea. Perhaps the man had gone out. She did not feel
afraid of Arabian at this moment. After what he had said she knew she
had no reason to be afraid of him just now. But if she gave herself
to him, if they ever were married? How would it be then? Life with him
would surely be an extraordinary business. She remembered her solicitude
about not being seen with him in public places. Already that seemed
long ago. Dick Garstin had told her she had travelled. No dou