"Let me go; it will be all right! Let me get into your things."
"Quite out of the question," said young Ryan, with growing firmness—the iron mask of the man who knows himself liable to turn wax in the hands of a woman. "Not to be thought of."
She set her teeth. It was life and death to her now, what he refused. She could have flown at him like a fury for his obstinacy. She knew, however, that this is no road to a woman's attainment of her desires. With honeyed sweetness, and always calmly, she murmured: "You were always so nice to me, Mr. Ryan. I liked you so!"
"I say, don't——"
"I am sure that girl must be devoted to you. Isn't she? The one you want to see? Oh, yes! Well, think if it were she who begged to be with you," pleaded Gwenna softly and deadly calm. Her knuckles were white on the hands that she held clasped against her breast. "Think if she begged for one last, last little time!"
"Look here; it's imposs——"
"I never begged for any one anything before, in my whole life. Never! Not even my husband. Only you! It's the first—the last favour, Mr. Ryan! You used to say you'd do anything——"
"No, please; I say——!"
"He's always said he would take me. You can follow us on. Yes, indeed it will be all right——"
Here Paul, passing with the Aeroplane Lady at the end of the yard, on his way to the machine in the field, saw by the steam reservoir his young wife talking earnestly to the red-haired Ryan chap, who was to be his passenger. He heard her say: "You must, Peter, you must!"