“I want you, you see,” he went on, “I want you more than I ever wanted anything in this world.  I need you, because without you my life will be utterly purposeless, and empty.  So I have taken you—­because you are mine, I know it,—­Ah yes! and, deep down in your woman’s heart, you know it too.  And so, I am going to marry you,—­yes I am, unless—­” and here, he brought the car to a standstill, and turning, looked at her for the first time.

And now, before the look in his eyes, her own wavered, and fell, lest he should read within them that which she would fain hide from him,—­and which she knew they must reveal,—­that which was neither shame, nor anger, nor fear, but the other feeling for which she dared find no name.  And thus, for a long moment, there was silence.

At last she spoke, though with her eyes still hidden: 

“Unless!” she repeated breathlessly.

“Anthea,—­look at me!”

But Anthea only drooped her head the lower; wherefore, he leaned forward, and—­even as Small Porges had done,—­set his hand beneath the dimple in her chin, and lifted the proud, un-willing face: 

“Anthea,—­look at me!”

And now, what could Anthea do but obey?

“Unless,” said he, as her glance, at last, met his, “unless you can tell me—­now, as your eyes look into mine,—­that you love Cassilis.  Tell me that, and I will take you back, this very instant; and never trouble you again.  But, unless you do tell me that, why then—­your Pride shall not blast two lives, if I can help it.  Now speak!”

But Anthea was silent, also, she would have turned aside from his searching look, but that his arms were about her, strong, and compelling.  So, needs must she suffer him to look down into her very heart, for it seemed to her that, in that moment, he had rent away every stitch, and shred of Pride’s enfolding mantle, and that he saw the truth, at last.

But, if he had, he gave no sign, only he turned and set the car humming upon its way, once more.

On they went through the midsummer night, up hill and down hill, by cross-road and bye-lane, until, as they climbed a long ascent, they beheld a tall figure standing upon the top of the hill, in the attitude of one who waits; and who, spying them, immediately raised a very stiff left arm, whereupon this figure was joined by another.  Now as the car drew nearer, Anthea, with a thrill of pleasure, recognized the Sergeant standing very much as though he were on parade, and with honest-faced Peterday beside him, who stumped joyfully forward, and,—­with a bob of his head, and a scrape of his wooden leg,—­held out his hand to her.

Like one in a dream she took the sailor’s hand to step from the car, and like one in a dream, she walked on between the soldier and the sailor, who now reached out to her, each, a hand equally big and equally gentle, to aid her up certain crumbling, and time-worn steps.  On they went together until they were come to a place of whispering echoes, where lights burned, few, and dim.