He sprang to his feet. "And he's got me where I must either call his bluff or—or—or accept his beastly sacrifice."
He tugged fiercely, first at one end, then at the other, of the bristling, horizontal mustache. Drusilla tried to speak calmly.
"He's not making a sacrifice if there was nothing for him to give up."
"That's what I must find out."
She considered it only loyal to say: "It's well to remember that in making the attempt you may do more harm than good. 'Where the apple reddens, never pry, lest we lose our Edens'—You know the warning."
"Yes, I know. That's Browning. In other words, it means, let well enough alone."
"Which isn't bad advice, you know."
"Which isn't bad advice—except in love. Love won't put up with reserves. It must have all—or it will take nothing."
He dropped into a low chair at the corner of the hearth. Wielding the poker in both hands, he knocked sparks idly from a smoldering log. It was some minutes before she ventured to say:
"And suppose you discovered that you couldn't get all?"