ng motionless against his heart, then
she spoke in a soft murmur of reminiscent tenderness.

"D'you remember, Jack, the evening we were engaged? You walked about
all night because you were afraid you might go to sleep and think it was
a dream, and you scribbled a letter in pencil beneath a lamp-post, and
put it into the letter-box so that I might have it at breakfast. I've
got it yet--in tissue paper, to keep the pencil fresh."

"Celia--don't! You torture me. Of course I remember."

"D'you remember that day up the river when we quarrelled, and I cried
all over the tea? When I got home at night my face was all smudged.
I'd been handling the kettle, and then dried my eyes, and you had never
said a word about it, but had been so _lovely_ to me all the way home.
I _did_ love you for that, Jack!"

"I had made you cry to start with. I've made you cry too often. Don't
cry for me now, Celia! I'm not worth it. You will be better without
me."

Then for the first time there came a flash of anger. She sat up
suddenly and faced him with flashing eyes.

"How _dare_ you say it? How dare you say such a lie? _Without_ you?
What would be left to me if you went? You _are_ my life. There has
been no room for anyone else; you have demanded everything for
yourself,--all my care, all my thought, all interest, all my love,--and
I have given them to you, till there is nothing left, and I am powerless
to live alone. You know it is true!"

"You think so now, Celia, but you will find life easier without me.
This hopeless waiting is hard on a woman, and I've drawn on you all
these years, always asking, always needing. It's a wrench, but it will
be better for us both. Celia, I haven't given you up without a
struggle. I make no defence. I know I am treating you abominably, but
this thing is stronger than myself. I _cannot_ go on. I must go my own
way."

"I will _never_ give you up!" said Celia firmly. She held out her left
hand the third finger of which was encircled by the engagement ring, an
inexpensive trifle in turquoise and pearls. "You put that ring there,
and made me swear that it should never come off until the wedding-ring
was put in its place. It never shall! It's no use giving me back my
promise. You don't realise what you are asking. It is an
impossibility. I can never believe that you seriously intend to marry
another woman until I see her walking out of church on your arm. And
then--"

"Then--"