se to hers that she could feel
his breath, quick and hot, upon her face. And still she made no struggle
for freedom, knowing instinctively that the instant her self-control
yielded, the battle was lost.

Slowly the burning flush died away under her eyes. His face changed, grew
subtly harder, less passionate. "So," he said, with an odd quietness,
"I'm not to kiss you. It would be dishonourable, what?"

She made unflinching reply. "It would be despicable and you know it--to
kiss any woman against her will."

"Would it be against your will?" he asked.

"Yes, it would." Firmly she answered him, yet a quiver of agitation went
through her. She felt her resolution begin to waver.

But in that moment something in Piers seemed to give way also. He cried
out to her as if in sudden, intolerable pain. "Avery! Avery! Are you made
of stone? Can't you see that this is life or death to me?"

She answered him instantly; it was almost as if she had been waiting for
that cry of his. "Yes, but you must get the better of it. You can if you
will. It is unworthy of you. You are trying to take what is not yours.
You have made a mistake, and you are wronging yourself and me."

"What?" he exclaimed. "You don't love me then!"

He flung his arms wide upon the words, with a gesture of the most utter
despair, and turned from her. A moment he stood swaying, as if bereft of
all his strength; and then with abrupt effort he began to move away. He
stumbled blindly, heavily, as he went, and the crying of the wheeling
sea-gulls came plaintively through a silence that could be felt.

But ere that silence paralysed her, Avery spoke, raising her voice, for
the urgency was great.

"Piers, stop!"

He stopped instantly, but he did not turn, merely stood tensely waiting.

She collected herself and went after him. She laid a hand that trembled
on his arm.

"Don't leave me like this!" she said.

Slowly he turned his head and looked at her, and the misery of that look
went straight to her heart. All the woman's compassion in her throbbed up
to the surface. She found herself speaking with a tenderness which a
moment before no power on earth would have drawn from her.

"Piers, something is wrong; something has happened. Won't you tell me
what it is?"

"I can't," he said.

His lower lip quivered unexpectedly and she saw his teeth bite savagely
upon it. "I'd better go," he said.

But her hand still held his arm. "No; wait!" she said. "You can't go