"Then I won't keep you," he said gravely. "Good night."
He had turned; but even as he turned, the longing in his heart grew too fierce for restraint. He swung round suddenly and caught her to him, drew her head upon his breast, and kissed her with passionate love—and remorse.
Nell strove for strength to repulse him, to free herself from his arms; but the strength would not come. For a moment she lay motionless, her lips upturned to his, her eyes seeking his, with an expression in them which haunted Drake for many a long year afterward.
"Nell," he said hoarsely, "I—I have something to tell you to-morrow. I—I have to ask your forgiveness. I would tell you to-night, but—I haven't courage. To-morrow!"
The words broke the spell. The flush of a hot, unbearable shame burned in her veins and shone redly in her face. With an effort, she drew herself from his arms and blindly escaped into the sitting room.
Drake raised his head and looked after her, biting his lip.
"Why not tell her to-night?" he asked himself. There was no guardian angel to whisper, "The man who hesitates is lost!" and thinking, "Not to-night; she is too tired—to-morrow!" he left the house.
Nell stood in the center of the room, her face white, her hands shaking; and Dick, as he peeled off what remained of his gloves, surveyed her critically.
"If I were you, young person, I'd have a stiff glass of grog before I tumbled into my little bed. Look here, if you like to go up now, I'll have a smoke, and bring you some up presently. You look—well, you look as if you were going to have the measles, my child."
Nell laughed discordantly.