I shall seek an engineering
billet altogether out of the country, in South America, in Asia,
wherever one is open. A job without responsibility, preferably. No,
no; I can't remain and play with fire--any longer."

An intense stillness rested in the room after these words. He doubted
if Louise even breathed.

"Would it be that?" she asked, at last.

"Of course. Haven't you seen?"

"I--I----" Her voice failed her.

"I could no more help loving you, Louise, after I came to know you,
than can the earth its blooming under a summer sun. The thing was
inevitable." He was speaking now in a slow, fixed attempt at
restraint. "And this love coming when it did, after I was betrothed to
Ruth Gardner, is the capping madness of the whole nightmarish
situation in which I find myself. 'Nightmarish' isn't an exaggeration,
honestly. By all the empty, senseless conventions I ought to seal my
lips on my love and to go dumbly away, because I'm engaged to Ruth
Gardner." He turned abruptly to her. "Do you think I should?"

Her hands were locked together in a clasp that expelled the blood and
left them white. Her regard had the intentness of a stare.

"If you love me, if you're going away--" She suddenly became agitated.
"Oh, I am unhappy!" And with a quick movement she bent her head aside.

"Louise, forgive me for causing this distress," he exclaimed.

Without looking about she put out a hand, touched and pressed his. The
unexpected act filled Bryant with amazement. He sat gazing stupidly at
the hand until she withdrew it. Then he found an explanation.

"You feel compassion for me," he said. "You would." A sound, low,
inarticulate, reached him. "It's your kind nature to make some return
for my love even if it's not love you can give. Or ought to give! I'm
expecting nothing, can expect nothing. That is out of the question. If
I were entirely calm and rational, I should doubtless be asking myself
why I should speak of my passion instead of trying to tear it out of
my heart. But, of course, being in love I'm neither the one nor the
other. The only explanation for the impulse to pour out a confession
like this is overcharged nerves. Or, after all, is it just unconscious
egotism?" His composure had slipped off and his tone had grown savage.

"Don't, don't, Lee! Don't cut at yourself!"

"What was it I had started to say? Oh, yes. I had said I felt no
compunction in brushing aside the usual conventions of duty as
proscribed for an engag