s he could lay his hands on for Joan. He threw them finally, a heavy
heap of scented blossoms, on to her lap. He said their colour was
reflected in her cheeks, their beauty in her eyes.

"It is a shame to have picked them so early," Joan remonstrated; "they
will die now before we get home."

"Let them," he answered, "at least they have had their day and done well
in it." He threw himself down on the grass beside her. "Aren't they
glorious, Pierrette?" he said; but his eyes were not on the flowers.

Joan stirred uneasily. The great moment was drawing closer and closer,
she was growing afraid, as are all women when the sound of Love's wings
comes too near them.

"I wish you wouldn't call me by that name any more," she said,
"because----"

"Well, why because?" Landon asked as she hesitated. "One of the things
that do not seem quite right to you, like kissing, or holding hands?" He
took up one of the roses from her lap and pulled it to pieces with
ruthless hands. "What a puritan you are!" he went on abruptly. "Do you
know we can only love once, isn't your heart hungry for life, Pierrette?
Sometimes your eyes are."

"Don't!" said Joan quickly, "that is another thing I wish you would not
do, make personal remarks; it makes me feel uncomfortable."

"Why don't you tell the truth?" he asked fiercely. "Why don't you say
afraid?"

"Because it does not," she answered; her eyes, however, would not meet
his. "I think uncomfortable describes it better."

Landon stared at her with sombre eyes. He was beginning to tire of their
pretty game of make believe; perhaps impulse was waning within him.
Anyway he felt he had wasted enough time on the chase. But to-day Joan
seemed very charming, and her fear, for he could see plainly enough that
she was afraid, was fanning the flame of his desire into a new spurt of
life.

"I am going to make love to you, Pierrette," he said; "I am going to
wake up that cold heart of yours. Does the thought frighten you,
Pierrette? because even that won't prevent me doing it."

He had drawn her close to him, she could feel his arms round her like
strong bands of iron. Joan lifted a face from which all the colour had
fled to his.

"Don't, please don't!" Her bewildered mind struggled with all the
carefully thought-out things she was going to have said to him. But the
crisis was too overwhelming for her; she could only remember the one
final thought that had been with her. "You may not want to marry m