not sure what to say, and, unlike most
women, when she was not sure what to say, she said nothing. Winn spoke
again, but a little less quietly.

"It's no use your making a fuss," he stated, "or cutting up rough about
it and throwing morals at my head. I've got past that." He got up,
locked the door, and then came back. "I'm going to keep that door locked
until I make sure what you're up to."

"You needn't have done that," Claire said quietly. "Do you think I want
to leave you? If I did, I shouldn't be here. You can't make me do
anything I don't want to do, because I want exactly what you do."

Winn shot an appreciative glance at her; that was a good stroke, but he
wasn't going to be taken in by it. In some ways he would have preferred
to see her angry. Hostility is generally the sign of weakness; but
Claire looked at him with an unyielding tenderness.

"The question is," he said firmly, "can I make you do what we both want
and what you are holding back from? I dare say you've got good reasons
for holding back and all that, and I know I'm an out-and-out blackguard
to press you, but I've reached a place where I won't stand any more.
D'you see my point?"

Claire nodded. She was not angry, because she saw that Winn was fighting
her not because he wanted to be victorious over her, but because he was
being conquered by pain.

She was not going to let him be conquered by it--that, as Miss Marley
had said, was her responsibility--but it wasn't going to be easy to
prevent it. She was close against the danger-line, and every nerve in
her being had long ago become part of Winn. He was fighting against the
best of himself, but all that was not the best of Claire fought on his
side. Perhaps there was not very much that was not the best in Claire.
She hesitated, then she said:

"I thought you wanted me--to go. I think you really do want it; that's
why I'm going."

Winn leaned forward and took hold of both her wrists. "So I did," he
agreed; "but it isn't any good. I can't do it. I've thought it all
out--just what to do, you know--for both of us. I'll have to leave my
regiment, of course, but I can get back into something else all right
later on. Estelle will give me a divorce. She'll want to keep the child
away from me; besides, she'll like to be a public martyr. As for you and
me, you'll have to face rough music for a year or two; that's the worst
part of it. I'm sorry. We'll stay abroad till it's over. My mother will
help