"I do ask you," he urged; "I implore."
"You implore me to be contemptible. You would have a disappointed woman for your wife. You deserve something better than that."
"Oh, my God," said Heriot, in a low voice, "if I could only tell you how I ache to take you in my arms—as softly as if you were a child! If I could tell you what it is to me to know that you are passing out of my life and that in two days' time I shall never see you again!... Mamie?"
The heavy shuffle of the servant was heard in the passage.
"Mamie?" he repeated desperately. "It will be worse over there."
Her eyes were big with perplexity and doubt.
"Mamie?"
"Are you sure you—sure——"
"I love you; I want you. Only trust me!... Mamie?"
"If you're quite sure you wish it," she faltered,—"yes!"