Victor laughed. "It was your father who put it through. I might have known!"
"At first I tried to interpose. Then—I stopped." She stood before him with eyes down. "It came to me that for my own sake it would be better that you should lose this fall. It seemed to me that if you won you would be farther out of my reach." She paused, went steadily on: "It was a bad feeling I had that you must not get anything except with my help. Do you understand?"
"Perfectly," said he cheerfully. "You are your father's own daughter."
"I love power," said she. "And so do you. Only, being a woman, I'd stoop to things to get it, that a man—at least your sort of man—would scorn. Do you despise me for that? You oughtn't to. And you will teach me better. You can make of me what you please, as I told you yesterday. I only half meant it then. Now—it's true, through and through."
Victor glanced round, saw near at hand the bench he was seeking. "Let's sit down here," said he. "I'm rather tired. I slept little and I've been walking all morning. And you look tired, also."
"After yesterday afternoon I couldn't sleep," said she.
When they were seated he looked at her with an expression that seemed to say: "I have thrown open the windows of my soul. Throw open yours; and let us look at each other as we are, and speak of things as they are." She suddenly flung herself against his breast and as he clasped her she said:
"No—no! Let's not reason coldly about things, Victor. Let's feel—let's LIVE!"
It was several minutes—and not until they had kissed many times—before he regained enough self-control to say: "This simply will not do, Jane. How can we discuss things calmly? You sit there"—he pushed her gently to one end of the bench—"and I'll sit at this end. Now!"
"I love you, Victor! With your arms round me I am happy—and SO strong!"