e had thought. This discovery had been
very upsetting.

"Not more than usual. Don't mind me. I'll probably end in a roaring bad
temper and smash something. My moody spells often break up that way!"

Harmony put down the paring-knife, and going over to where he sat rested
a hand on his shoulder. Peter drew away from it.

"I have hurt you in some way?"

"Of course not."

"Could--could you talk about whatever it is? That helps sometimes."

"You wouldn't understand."

"You haven't quarreled with Anna?" Harmony asked, real concern in her
voice.

"No. Good Lord, Harmony, don't ask me what's wrong! I don't know
myself."

He got up almost violently and set the little chair back against the
wall. Hurt and astonished, Harmony went back to the table. The kitchen
was entirely dark, save for the firelight, which gleamed on the bare
floor and the red legs of the table. She was fumbling with a match and
the candle when she realized that Peter was just behind her, very close.

"Dearest," he said huskily. The next moment he had caught her to him,
was kissing her lips, her hair.

Harmony's heart beat wildly. There was no use struggling against him.
The gates of his self-control were down: all his loneliness, his starved
senses rushed forth in tardy assertion.

After a moment Peter kissed her eyelids very gently and let her go.
Harmony was trembling, but with shock and alarm only. The storm that had
torn him root and branch from his firm ground of self-restraint left
her only shaken. He was still very close to her; she could hear him
breathing. He did not attempt to speak. With every atom of strength that
was left in him he was fighting a mad desire to take her in his arms
again and keep her there.

That was the moment when Harmony became a woman.

She lighted the candle with the match she still held. Then she turned
and faced him.

"That sort of thing is not for you and me, Peter," she said quietly.

"Why not?"

"There isn't any question about it."

He was still reckless, even argumentative; the crying need of her still
obsessed him. "Why not? Why should I not take you in my arms? If
there is a moment of happiness to be had in this grind of work and
loneliness--"

"It has not made me happy."

Perhaps nothing else she could have said would have been so effectual.
Love demands reciprocation; he could read no passion in her voice. He
knew then that he had left her unstirred. He dropped his outstretched
arms.

"