very silent--you have been so for days," she added; then, too
late, knew that once more her tongue had betrayed her. "Don't answer
me," she whispered.

"Why not?"

"Because what I say is folly.... I--I must ask you to release my
hands.... You know it is only because I think it safer for--us; don't
you?"

"What threatens _you_. Calypso?"

"Nothing.... I told you once that I am afraid--even in daylight. Ask
yourself what I fear here under the stars with you."

"You fear _me_?"--managing to laugh.

"No; I dread your ally--my unknown self--in arms eternally to fight for
you," she answered with forced gaiety. "Shall we kill her to-night? She
deserves no consideration at our hands."

"Dear--"

"Hush! That is not the countersign on the firing line. Besides it is
treachery, because to say that word is aiding, abetting, and giving
information and comfort to our enemies. Our enemies, remember, are our
other and stealthy selves." Her voice broke unsteadily. "I am trying so
hard," she breathed, "but I cannot think clearly unless you help me.
There is mutiny threatening somewhere."

"I have tried, too," he said.

"I know you have. Do you suppose I have been untouched by your
consideration for me all these long days--your quiet cheerfulness--your
dear unselfishness--the forbidden word!--but what synonym am I to
use?... Oh, I know, I know what you are doing, thinking,
feeling--believe me--believe me, I know! And--it is what you must do, of
course. But--if you only did not show it so plainly--the effort--the
strain--the hurt--"

"Do I show it?" he asked, chagrined. "I did not know that."

"Only to me--because I know. And I remember how young you were--that
first day. Your whole expression has changed.... And I know why.... At
times it scarcely seems that I can bear it--when I see your mouth
laughing at the world and your eyes without mirth--dead--and the youth
in you so altered, so quenched, so--forgive me!--so useless--"

"To what better use could I devote it, Shiela?"

"Oh, you don't know!--you don't know!--You are free; there are other
women, other hopes--try to understand what freedom means!"

"It means--_you,_, Shiela."

She fell silent; then:

"Wherever I turn, whatever I say--all paths and words lead back again to
you and me. I should not have come."

The hard, hammering pulse in his throat made it difficult for him to
speak; but he managed to force an unsteady laugh; "Shiela, there is only
one way for