“Nonsense—­”

“Suppose you did?”

He said, sobered:  “It would be horribly awkward for you to explain.  I forgot about—­”

[Illustration:  “She walked a few paces toward the house, halted, and looked back audaciously.”]

“Do you think I meant that!  Do you think I’d care what people might say about our being here together?  I—­I’d want them to know it!  What would I care—­about—­anything—­then!”

Through the scorn in her voice he detected the awakened emotion; and, responsive, his pulse quickened, beating hard and heavy in throat and breast.

“I had almost forgotten,” he said, “that we might dare look at things that way....  It all has been so—­hopeless—­lately—­”

“What?...  Yes, I understand.”

“Do you?—­my trying to let you alone—­trying to think differently—­to ignore all that has been said?”

“Yes....  This is no time to bring up such things.”  Her uneven breathing was perceptible to him as she moved by his side through the darkness, her arm resting on his.

No, this was no time to bring up such things.  They knew it.  And she, who in the confidence of her youth had dared to trust her unknown self, listened now to the startled beating of her heart at the first hint of peril.

“I wish I had not come,” she said.

He did not ask her why.

“You are very silent—­you have been so for days,” she added; then, too late, knew that once more her tongue had betrayed her.  “Don’t answer me,” she whispered.

“Why not?”

“Because what I say is folly....  I—­I must ask you to release my hands....  You know it is only because I think it safer for—­us; don’t you?”

“What threatens you.  Calypso?”

“Nothing....  I told you once that I am afraid—­even in daylight.  Ask yourself what I fear here under the stars with you.”

“You fear me?”—­managing to laugh.

“No; I dread your ally—­my unknown self—­in arms eternally to fight for you,” she answered with forced gaiety.  “Shall we kill her to-night?  She deserves no consideration at our hands.”

“Dear—­”

“Hush!  That is not the countersign on the firing line.  Besides it is treachery, because to say that word is aiding, abetting, and giving information and comfort to our enemies.  Our enemies, remember, are our other and stealthy selves.”  Her voice broke unsteadily.  “I am trying so hard,” she breathed, “but I cannot think clearly unless you help me.  There is mutiny threatening somewhere.”

“I have tried, too,” he said.

“I know you have.  Do you suppose I have been untouched by your consideration for me all these long days—­your quiet cheerfulness—­your dear unselfishness—­the forbidden word!—­but what synonym am I to use?...  Oh, I know, I know what you are doing, thinking, feeling—­believe me—­believe me, I know!  And—­it is what you must do, of course.  But—­if you only did not show it so plainly—­the effort—­the strain—­the hurt—­”