They had passed the cab-stand now and had turned toward home, but neither noticed this. Amherst's face was ghastly and his steps unsteady; but Lynn walked erect and stately like a sable figure of doom.
When some blocks had been traversed in silence Amherst spoke, slowly and humbly.
"Lynn, I should not have spoken as I did. We're all human and I'm not your judge. If I didn't love you—if I hadn't believed that you loved me—I should not have been so harsh. Will you let me walk home with you? We probably shan't see one another again very soon and there is so much I want to say."
"No."
"You won't let me? You compel me to—very well, I'll go to Ricossia, then; I'll make him listen to reason and, and if he won't, I'll"——
"Gerald!"
Lynn's voice was alive with a sudden, horrible fear.
"Gerald," she said swiftly, clasping his arm with her hands, "you loved me once, didn't you? For the sake of that, because of that, will you do me a favour? Deal with me, alone. I'm strong, I can stand anything. Say what you please to me, do as you think best—but let him alone. He's so young, he—he's so weak—and he's dying, Gerald, dying. He may be dead, to-morrow. While he lives, let him alone. Oh, Gerald, promise me!"
Amherst could not speak for a moment. When he did his voice had altered.
"Lynn," said he, gently, "why did you promise to marry me?"