e very roughness,
and the scent of growing things, gave her a savage, earthy charm.

He explained the situation to her, word by word. When he told her that
their meetings were known to his father, she hid her face on his breast.
When he went on to describe how resolute he had been in taking the bull
by the horns, she put her hands on his shoulders and looked up into his
face with the devotion of a dog. On hearing what a good mother Mrs.
Masterman had been, her utterances, which welled up out of her heart as
if she had been crying, were like broken phrases of blessing. As a
matter of fact, she was only half listening. She was telling herself how
mad she had been in fancying for an instant that she could ever have
married Thor--that she could ever have married any one, no matter how
great the need or how immense the compensation. Having confronted the
peril, she knew now, as she had not known it hitherto, that her heart
belonged to this man who held her in his arms for him to do with it as
he pleased. He might treasure it, or he might play with it, or he might
break it. It was all one. It was his. It was his and she was his--to
shatter on the wheel or to trample in the mire, just as he was inclined.
It was so clear to her now that she wondered she hadn't seen it with
equal force in those days when she was so resolute in declaring that she
"knew what she was doing."

And yet within a few minutes she saw how difficult it was to surrender
herself, even mentally, without reserves. She was still listening but
partially. She recognized plainly enough that the things he was saying
were precisely those which a month ago would have filled her soul with
satisfaction. He loved her, loved her, loved her. Moreover, he had found
the means of sweeping all obstacles aside. They were to be married as
soon as possible--just as soon as he could "arrange things." Thor and
his mother were with them, and his father's conversion would be only a
matter of time. These assurances, by which all the calculations of her
youth were crowned, found her oddly apathetic. It was not because she
had lost the knowledge of their value, but only that they had become
subsidiary to the great central fact that she was his--without money or
price on his side, and no matter at what cost on hers.

It was only when he began to murmur semi-coherent plans for the future,
in which she detected the word Paris, that she was frightened.

"Oh, but, Claude darling, how co