“You must save him.”
The girl’s voice was choked. Oliver leant forward and looked at her.
“At all costs?”
“At all costs.”
“And by all means, whether right or wrong?”
“Whether right or wrong.”
He leant forward still further and forced her to look at him.
“I will,” he said slowly. “For you.”
They were silent after that for a time. He felt that he had won a victory, but her moods were so changeful that he was afraid of endangering it by trying to push his advantage further. And yet he wanted more. More than ever since this other man, of whom he felt insanely jealous, had appeared on the scene. At this moment, when her feelings were all stirred and thrilled, he knew that skilfully led she would be capable of any self-sacrifice, that it would even have an attraction for her. Once get her to make a definite promise, and he felt certain the generosity of her nature would keep her to it. And once his—he looked at her beautiful face, grew pale, and set his teeth—he would make her love him: his work should not be left half done.
Now, if ever, was his time.