t you want. . . . I'm glad for both
our sakes that this came when it did. I couldn't have made you happy
while I was uncertain. . . ."

"And, if the war ended to-morrow and Jack came back safe and sound next
week, what then?"

"It depends on him. I gave him my solemn promise, when I was trying to
make reparation."

"And I don't count at all. After all our love, you could forget me----"

"I could never forget you, sweetheart."

"But--you're willing to _try_?"

"What else can I do? Oh, what a muddle I've made of our lives!"

Eric had determined to be patient and restrained; but his voice,
uncontrolled and scornful, seemed to come from a distance.

"Will you make it any better by keeping faith with Jack and breaking it
with me? You'll be unhappy all your life, you'll never forgive yourself,
you'll never forget the wrong you've done me, if you marry any one
else!"

Barbara's eyes filled with fear.

"You speak as if you were putting a curse on me!"

"I don't believe in curses or blessings or luck or your other
superstitions. I'm warning you--and I'll add this. You once undertook my
education, but I think I can teach you one thing, one thing about love:
it has to be whole-hearted. . . ."

He flung away and stood with his arm on the mantel-piece, fumbling the
lock of a cigar-cabinet with clumsy fingers. Barbara made no sound, and
after some moments he stole a look at her.

"I know," she answered quietly.

"Well----" He hesitated and then took his plunge. "You've got to decide,
Babs."

"You must wait till we've heard something definite."

"No! If we heard to-morrow, to-night, in five minutes' time, it would
make no difference. I want the whole of your love, I want to stand
first." He waited, but she said nothing. "You've very often told me how
much you loved me," he went on, ironical at her silence. "You've told me
how you need me, how grateful you are to me, how much you want to make
me happy----"

He had dropped into unconscious parody, and its technical excellence set
her writhing.

"_Don't_, Eric! _Please!_"

"You must decide, Babs."

"_No!_"

She buried her face in her hands and sobbed so wildly that he expected
at any moment to see his maid's head at the door. For a while he was
stoically unmoved; then the crying gave him a pain at the heart, and he
stepped forward, only to pull up before he threw away his victory.

"Eric, _don't_," she cried, as soon as she had mastery of her voice.

"You