oo much--!'"

Lifting his hands to her waist, Jon forced her to sit down again. She
hurried on:

"I've planned it all out. We've only to go to Scotland. When we're
married they'll soon come round. People always come round to facts.
Don't you SEE, Jon?"

"But to hurt them so awfully!"

So he would rather hurt her than those people of his!

"All right, then; let me go!"

Jon got up and put his back against the door. "I expect you're right,"
he said slowly; "but I want to think it over."

She could see that he was seething with feelings he wanted to express;
but she did not mean to help him. She hated herself at this moment, and
almost hated him.

Why had she to do all the work to secure their love? It wasn't fair.
And then she saw his eyes, adoring and distressed.

"Don't look like that! I only don't want to lose you, Jon."

"You can't lose me so long as you want me."

"Oh, yes, I can."

Jon put his hands on her shoulders.

"Fleur, do you know anything you haven't told me?"

It was the point-blank question she had dreaded. She looked straight at
him, and answered: "No." She had burnt her boats; but what did it
matter, if she got him? He would forgive her. And throwing her arms
round his neck, she kissed him on the lips. She was winning! She felt
it in the beating of his heart against her, in the closing of his eyes.
"I want to make sure! I want to make sure!" she whispered. "Promise!"

Jon did not answer. His face had the stillness of extreme trouble. At
last he said:

"It's like hitting them. I must think a little, Fleur. I really must."

Fleur slipped out of his arms.

"Oh! Very well!" And suddenly she burst into tears of disappointment,
shame, and overstrain. Followed five minutes of acute misery. Jon's
remorse and tenderness knew no bounds; but he did not promise. Despite
her will to cry: "Very well, then, if you don't love me
enough--good-bye!" she dared not. From birth accustomed to her own way,
this check from one so young, so tender, so devoted, baffled and
surprised her. She wanted to push him away from her, to try what anger
and coldness would do, and again she dared not. The knowledge that she
was scheming to rush him blindfold into the irrevocable weakened
everything--weakened the sincerity of pique, and the sincerity of
passion; even her kisses had not the lure she wished for them. That
stormy little meeting ended inconclusively.

"Will you some tea, gnadiges Fraulein?"

Pushing Jon