There was that in his hold—perhaps because of the fulness of her surrender—that had never been before,—something flaming, something fiercely electric, in his swift acceptance of her. As he clasped her, she felt the wild throbbing of his heart like the pulsing force of a racing engine. He kissed her, and in his kiss there was more than the lover's adoration. It held the demand and mastery of matehood. By it he claimed and sealed her for his own.
When his hold relaxed, she made no effort to withdraw herself. She leaned against him gasping a little, but her eyes—with the glory yet shining in them—were still raised to his.
"So that's settled, is it?" she said, with a quivering smile. "You are quite sure, Dick?"
His hands were clasped behind her. His look had a certain burning quality as if he challenged all the world for her possession.
"What am I to say to you, Juliet?" he said, his words low, deeply vibrant. "I can't deny—my other self—can I?"
"I don't know," she said. "You were very near it, weren't you? I thought you had—all these weeks."
"Ah!" His brows contracted. "Will you forgive me, Juliet? I've had—an infernal time."
"Yes. I know," she said gently.
"No, dear, you don't know. How could you? Your life hasn't been one perpetual struggle against overwhelming odds like mine." He paused. "Look here, darling! I'm rather a fool to-night. I can't explain things. But you've been very wonderful to me. You've lighted a torch in the dark. I kept away because—it didn't seem fair to you to do anything else. You were back in your own inner circle, and I was miles outside. And you never wanted to be bound. When I saw you with—Lord Saltash—I knew why."
"My dear!" she said. "You didn't imagine I was in love with
Saltash surely!"