in harness that she knew nothing
of--the curb and snaffle, with the reins held tightly across fingers
of iron.

"Why?" he repeated. "If you don't know human nature, would it be wise,
do you think, for me to spell it out to you?"

She knit her brows, trying to see, trying to think, but finding
nothing save the blank and gaping question. Through her mind it swept,
that her fainting was some cause of it. She could not really believe
that that could have brought so much abhorrence to his mind; yet she
tried it. To say anything, to propose any cause, she struggled for
that in order to know the why.

"It was because I fainted?" she said quickly. "You hate a woman to
be weak; I know I was weak; you hate scenes of that sort. Do you think
I can't understand it?" She worked herself into the belief that this
was the reason, and her spirit of defence rose with it. "Of course
I can understand. If I were a man, I should hate it too! But you're
quite wrong if you think I shall get unnerved again, as I did this--"

"It's not that at all!" he said firmly. "Do you think I'm such a fool,
do you even think I'm such a brute as to blame you, to think poorly,
inconsiderately of you for something that was entirely my own fault?
I shouldn't have let myself be carried away by the excitement of that
fight. There are many things I shouldn't have done beside that. I
shouldn't have stopped as I passed along King Street that night. When
I saw that little gold head of yours in the window, I should have
gone on, taken no notice. I shouldn't have followed, I shouldn't have
spoken to you as I did."

"But why?" she entreated.

He gripped the bowl of his pipe in his fingers. "For the very reason
you gave me yourself, on the 'bus that day, and afterwards when we
were having lunch together."

"What was that?"

"That I didn't know you."

She looked her bewilderment. "I don't understand," she said simply.

"Then I can explain no further. We must leave it at that."

"Oh! but why can't you explain?" She had nearly added, "When it means
so much to me," but shut her teeth, drew in her breath on the words,
inducing the physical act to aid her in preventing their utterance.

"I think you would be--perhaps sorry--perhaps hurt--if I did."

"I'm sure I wouldn't--and I'd sooner know."

He looked at her fixedly as the pendulum of decision swung in his
mind. To tell her would be to crush it, kill it utterly, the blow
of the sword of Damocles falling at l