Rob got up and stretched himself elaborately, vented his boredom in a long musical yawn, then settled down to sleep again in a more expansive attitude; and Evelyn's French clock struck six with cheerful unconcern.
The silence, which seemed interminable, might possibly have lasted three minutes, when Honor let fall her hands, and looked up at the man who had mastered her. He looked what he was—unconquerable; and if she had not loved him already, she must infallibly have loved him then.
"Please understand," she said, and her voice was not quite steady, "that I have not given my consent to this. You have simply wrenched it from me by the sheer force of—your personality. You have not altered my conviction by a hair's-breadth. What you have set your heart on is a piece of unjustifiable quixotism; and I have only one thing to beg of you now. Do nothing decisive till you have spoken to Paul."
Desmond sighed.
"Very well. I will tackle him to-morrow."
"What a hurry you are in!" And she smiled faintly.
"I believe in striking while the iron's hot."
"And I believe in giving it time to cool. May I—first, say one word to Paul?"
"No, certainly not." The refusal came out short and sharp. "If you two combined forces against me I should be done for! Leave me to manage Paul alone."