"What for?" he gasped.
"I've been a brute, a beast, and you've never once complained."
"Dearest!"
"It's true enough; too true. All your life you've given me love, and all I've given you are doubts and misunderstandings. But I'll atone, I'll atone now. I'm yours to do what you will with, whenever you please, now, here, if you wish it. You needn't marry me; I won't bind you down; I only ask you to be kind to me for a little, I've suffered so much."
"You mean—you mean—"
"That you've loved me so long and so much that I can only reward you by giving you myself."
She opened her arms. He looked at her steadily for a while, till, with a great effort, he tore himself from her presence and left the room.
The next morning, Mavis received a letter from Windebank.
"My own dearest love," it ran, "don't think me a mug for leaving you last night as I did, but I love you so dearly that I want to get you for life and don't wish to run any risk of losing what I treasure most on earth. I am making arrangements so that we can get married at the very earliest date, which I believe is three days from now. And then—"
Mavis did not read any more just then.