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When
he made love, he was not as when he flirted. Passion purged him; he was
strong, direct, and simple; he was consumed then by what he felt and had
no time to spoil the effect by asking what impression he made on others.
Here was the thing that Marchmont could not give her, the great moment,
the thrill, the sense of a power in the man which she had not measured,
might spend her life in seeking to measure, and yet never to the end know
in its fulness. But she answered not a word to his love-making, she
neither accepted nor refused it; as often as he paused an instant and
again when he came to the end, she had nothing to say or would say
nothing except, "You must go."
"You're the only person in the world for whose sake I would hesitate
about going."
She smiled. "That's not at all to your credit," she said; but she was not
ill pleased.
He came a step nearer to her and said, still soberly, still quietly,
"I'll go away from here to-morrow."
"Yes, to the meeting," she said, looking up at him brightly from her seat
on the wooden bench on the hill-top.


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