"You—prefer—to stay?" he repeated, and looked from her to the man who lay at his feet. "Was my chance shot so far from the target?" he asked. "You will stay with—whom? Not a lover?"
Her eyes were stormy, but her voice was restrained.
"Even your insolence does not turn me from my duty," she answered. "Captain Aylmer has served, and is suffering for, me and mine."
She turned her eyes from his as she spoke and, as if some power outside herself compelled her, let them meet the glance which Aylmer flung at her from the level of the floor. Through a pregnant moment she read its message—surprise, incredulity, and then hope. These lit fires in it one by one, but the last eclipsed all other gleams, and remained.
He spoke.
"Thank you," he said simply. "But I am not here to add to your hardships. I cannot accept the sacrifice."
"The decision is with me," she said quietly, but with determination. "It is settled. I remain here, with Captain Aylmer."
Landon was still smiling.
"It has its unconventional side, this decision of yours," he said. "I must remind you of that."
"You need remind me of nothing," she answered. "I stay; that is all."