ing, Moira." I tried to speak as kindly as
possible, but somehow I think I failed. "I happened to overhear you and
your uncle yesterday, and I know just what you mean. But, Moira, I don't
see how things can ever be the same again. It isn't as if it were
something I could forget. It isn't. It goes right down to the
fundamentals. If our love wouldn't stand the strain I put on it, it
wasn't worth having. I hate to have to speak to you like this, but, when
all's said and done, it's just as well to be frank first as last."

She nodded with tight-closed lips. I saw that she was trying her hardest
to keep control of herself, and for a moment it was touch and go with
me. I very seldom set my mind to anything that I don't carry through,
and in this instance I had a very clear and definite plan outlined in my
mind. So I just set my teeth and carried it off as if nothing really
mattered very much.

"You heard us yesterday then?" she said at length. She spoke so slowly
that she almost drawled her words.

I nodded.

"That's what you were doing then when I came out of the room?"

"Exactly," I said. I fancied it would only make matters worse if I
explained everything in detail.

"I was wrong, Jim, and I apologise," she said. There was a little gleam
of flame in her eyes that made me hang on her words. "I was wrong," she
repeated. "I said yesterday that you had changed, but I don't think you
have. You're just the same old Jim, a bit of a savage and just as
primitive as ever."

"Thank you, Moira," I said. "I didn't expect it from you, but now I know
what to look for."

"It is war then?" she said, with a little sparkle in her eyes.

"War it is," I answered; "as the Spaniards say, 'Guerra al cuchillo.'"

"Please translate," she requested. "I do not speak Spanish."

"War to the knife," I said briskly.

She half turned, then spoke to me over her shoulder. "I had hoped that
we would be allies," she said softly, and was gone before I could ask
her why.

As was only to be expected, things were very quiet during the next few
days. Bryce went about his own affairs more openly than hitherto. With
the passing of our midnight visitor all fear of attack seemed to have
disappeared. He did not say as much to me, but in many little ways he
showed that he was much easier in his mind. I found that I had next to
nothing to do. He did not go out of his way now to find something to
keep me occupied. As a matter of fact, I saw very little of