ter than mine possessed me. I was
crazy. I dragged him out of the tent for no reason--that's the truth--for
no reason at all. Can you believe that?"

"Yes," replied Thresk readily enough. "I can well believe that."

"Then something broke," she resumed. "I felt weak and numbed. I dragged
myself to my room. I went to bed. Does that sound very horrible to you?
I had one clear thought only. It was over. It was all over. I slept."
She leaned back in her chair, her hands dropped to her side, her eyes
closed. "Yes I did actually sleep."

A clock ticking upon the mantelshelf seemed to grow louder and louder in
the silence of the library. The sound of it forced itself upon Thresk. It
roused Stella. She opened her eyes. In front of her Thresk was standing,
his face grave and very pitiful.

"Now answer me truly," said Stella, and leaning forward she fixed her
eyes upon him. "If you still loved me, would you, knowing this story,
refuse to marry me?"

Thresk looked back across the years of her unhappy life and saw her as
the sport of a malicious destiny.

"No," he said, "I should not."

"Then why shouldn't Dick marry me?"

"Because he doesn't know this story."

Stella nodded her head.

"Yes. There's the flaw in my appeal to you, I know. You are quite right.
I should have told him. I should tell him now," and suddenly she dropped
on her knees before Thresk, the tears burst from her eyes, and in a voice
broken with passion she cried:

"But I daren't--not yet. I have tried to--oh, more than once. Believe
that, Henry! You must believe it! But I couldn't. I hadn't the courage.
You will give me a little time, won't you? Oh, not long. I will tell him
of my own free will--very soon, Henry. But not now--not now."

The sound of her sobbing and the sight of her distress wrung Thresk's
heart. He lifted her from the ground and held her.

"There's another way, Stella," he said gently.

"Oh, I know," she answered. She was thinking of the little bottle with
the tablets of veronal which stood by her bed, not for the first time
that night. She did not stop to consider whether Thresk, too, had that
way in his mind. It came to her so naturally; it was so easy, so simple a
way. She never thought that she misunderstood. She had come to the end of
the struggle; the battle had gone against her; she recognised it; and
now, without complaint, she bowed her head for the final blow. The
inherited habit of submission taught her that the moment