Perhaps the devil walked with them that night along the path under the dark yews, perhaps he tapped Allan on the shoulder and whispered in his ear.
Allan turned to her suddenly, he gripped her wrists, he tore her hands away from her face, his voice was harsh, as unlike his own voice as voice could be.
"Listen, you—you must—this—this cannot go on. What the past held, God knows—yet whatever it held, it cannot and shall not influence the future. I have a wife, I am bound in honour to her, in honour to you, Betty. Hush, leave off crying, you hear me?"
She was frightened by the stern authority in his voice and left off her whimpering.
"What I am doing, what I want to do is for your own sake, and for mine because you are young and well nigh friendless and very beautiful, because I too am young and—and afraid, yes afraid—Betty."
"Oh Allan, of—of me?"
"Yes of you, and for you Betty, I want you to be happy and, dear, I want happiness myself. This old garden, the garden here about us has meant so much to us both, better dear that you should go and never see it again, for then in time you will forget, and the love you speak of is not real, it cannot be real, it is born of dreams Betty and like a dream it will pass."
"Why—why when I du love——"
"You know why, because I have a wife, because I love her and honour her and would sooner cut off my hand than cause her one moment of shame, of pain or unhappiness."
He bent nearer to her, he could see her face glimmering white so near to his, so tempting, yet he was not tempted.