I did not. I am convinced that I would not have
volunteered it and I am certain you did not ask."

"I asked you a moment ago."

If I don't make it stop, she thought, it will jump out. What shall I do?

"And I ask you again," he gravely continued.

It was in her throat. Try as she might she could not choke it back. Out
it came.

"I have never cared for any one else."

Lennox stared. It was incredible. Like many another it was incredible to
him that he should have sought afar for what was at his side.

But not having finished, she resumed. "And I never shall."

To that there could be but one reply. It was rough enough. Cassy did not
mind, but she freed herself, undulantly, as a woman can.

Unrebuffably Lennox renewed it. "Let's be married at once."

Cassy smoothed her rumpled hair. "No." The monosyllable fell like a
stone.

Lennox kicked it. "In God's name, why not?"

Cassy turned away. It was the hardest of all. Beside it, what was the
gesture of the day before?

"Because. Just because."

"Because why?"

"Because I could not live to see you regret it."

"But why should I? I never shall." His hands on her shoulders, violently
his eyes probed her own.

She thought him so dear, but she said: "I have not cared for any one
else. You have. The growth of love is slow. You cannot love me now as
I love you."

He wanted to shake her and nearly did. "But when you find I do?"

"Ah, when that day comes, I will."

"And meanwhile?"

She just plucked at his sleeve. Nothing could have been more yielding.
It was yielding as water, and yielding still, her eyes fell.

"For your sake only. Later--if--if----"

Any great astonishment is dumb and, at the moment, a whirlwind tossed
his thoughts. In the swirling gale were sudden pictures; the girl's fair
arms, the delight of her lips, his own desire. Tumultuously they passed.
Before him flew the hazards of life, of death, and, curling there, the
iniquity of leaving her afterward, as leave her he must, alone to face
them. The counter-blast steadied him. Astonishment may be dumb, love is
clairvoyant.

"For your own sake, no. The war cannot last forever and if I return,
then--then----"

* * * * *

Shortly, among the Victorian horrors of his gloomy rooms, she came to
see him off.

Mrs. Austen, who heard of everything, heard of that. "I always knew it!"
she exclaimed. The dear woman had known nothing of the kind and her
perspicacity a