She thought she was secure of victory. Her lips half parted for the expected kiss. Guy had risen, holding her tightly to him. She drooped in his arms. Almost he was won. "You have stolen my love," she murmured.
What strange fate brought those particular words to her lips? Guy, thrilling in response to the passion which throbbed in her veins, his senses enthralled by the diablerie of her beauty, remembered that Meriel had used the very same words. He forgot where he was. Once again he was on the deck of the yacht, becalmed, and hope had passed him by with a flowing sail. Had hope come again? Myra loved him. And he had not stolen her love. His conscience was clear there. Yet she loved him, and he was hungry for love. Could he give her love in return? He knew that he could not. Passion he could give, a short-lived fire. No, no, no! A thousand times no. It would be desecration of the memory he cherished. The conflict was brief.
He gently loosened the entwining arms which held him. He could not trust himself to speak. He placed the girl gently in the chair and turned away. She sprang after him, realising his intention.
"Guy," she cried, "you cannot be so cruel."
There was agony in her voice, and despair in her gesture. She was carried away by the violence of her emotion.
"I only ask you to love me a little." Her words were those of a child pleading. "I will be so good, so good. I only want to be near you, Guy. I won't ask you to be all mine, only that sometimes you will be kind and remember me." Her mood changed. She threw herself to her knees. "I am beautiful, Guy, I know I am beautiful. There are not many women so beautiful as I am, Guy, and——" She held up her hands pleadingly. "You won't leave me all alone—stop just this once, Guy."
He held her hands tightly, and as she looked into his eyes she knew that her hope was vain. Her mouth drooped at the corners. She freed her hands and dropped, a pathetic figure of despair, on to the rug.
Guy walked to the door. But he could not leave her so. He came back and knelt beside her.
"If I believed in God, I would say, 'God help both of us, Myra.'" There was a quiver of pain in his voice. "I, too, love, and my love is hopeless. I did not know, Myra."
She was listening, and now she raised herself. The passion had gone out of her face. Her eyes were dull.