"No," he said again.
"Must I—tell you?" she asked, with a gasp.
"I think you must," he said, in his grave way.
She lifted her head abruptly. Her eyes were very big and shining. She stretched her hands out to him with a little, quivering laugh.
"I hate you for making me say it!" she declared, with a vehemence half passionate, half whimsical. "Piet, I—I want you—to—to—take me in your arms again, and—and—kiss me—as you did—that night."
The last words were uttered from his breast, though she never knew how she came to be there. It was as though a whirlwind had caught her away from the earth into a sunlit paradise that was all her own—a paradise in which fear had no place. And the chain against which she had chafed so long and bitterly had turned to links of purest gold.
The Consolation Prize
"So you don't want to marry me?" said Earl Wyverton.