em!" he tried to say, but the
words were without sound; and, in the crisis of temptation, at the very
instant of yielding, suddenly he knew, somehow, that he would not yield.

It came to him calmly, without surprise or shock, this stupid certainty
of himself. And at the same moment the crisis was passing, leaving him
stunned, impassive, half senseless as the resurgent passion battered at
his will power, to wreck and undo it--deafening, imperative, wave on
wave, in vain.

The thing to do was to hold on. One of them was adrift; the other dared
not let go; he seemed to realise it, somehow. Odd bits of phrases,
old-fashioned sayings, maxims long obsolete came to him without reason
or sequence--"Greater love hath no man--no man--no man--" and "As ye do
unto the least of these "--odd bits of phrases, old-fashioned sayings,
maxims, alas! long obsolete, long buried with the wisdom of the dead.

He held her still locked in his arms. From time to time, unconsciously,
as her hot grief spent itself, he bent his head, laying his face against
hers, while his haggard, perplexed gaze wandered about the room.

In the dimness the snowy bed loomed beside them; pink roses patterned
curtain and wall; the tiny night-light threw a roseate glow across her
gown. In the fresh, sweet stillness of the room there was no sound or
stir save their uneven breathing.

Very gently he lifted one of her hands and looked at it almost
curiously--this small white hand so innocently smooth--as unblemished as
a child's--this unsullied little hand that for an instant seemed to be
slowly relaxing its grasp on the white simplicity around her--here in
this dim, fresh, fragrant world of hers, called, intimately, her room.

And here where night and morning had so long held sacred all that he
cared for upon earth--here in the white symbol of the world--her
room--he gave himself again to her, without a word, without hope,
knowing the end of all was near for them.

But it was she, not he, who must make the sign that ended all. And,
after a long, long time, as she made no sign:

"Dearest," he breathed, "I know now that you will never go with me--for
your father's sake."

That was premature, for she only clung the closer. He waited cautiously,
every instinct alert, his head close to hers. And at last the hot
fragrance of her tears announced the beginning of the end.

"Shiela?"

A stifled sound from his shoulder where her head lay buried.

"Choose now," he sa