“Yes, I know; but, unfortunately, you had to deal with an old campaigner and a New Woman, you see. Lady Haigh and I were able to read the signs of the times as well as you and Mr Stratford; but we pretended that we knew nothing about things, for the sake of sparing your feelings. Now, do you think you have treated us properly? I don’t demand information as a right; I only ask whether it was fair—whether it was even kind—to try and keep us in ignorance? We have at least as much at stake as you have.”

“At least?” he repeated, bitterly. “I can tell you that I would give my life gladly to know that you were in Khemistan and safe out of this. Now you can’t say that I haven’t spoken plainly.”

“But why not have told us the worst before, and let us talk it over, and get what comfort we could out of that? Facing a danger boldly makes it seem much less terrible. It is the guessing, and the wondering, and the putting two and two together, and the anxiety as to whether there has been any fresh trouble, of which we know nothing, to make you and Mr Stratford look graver and graver every day, that have been so dreadful this week.”

“Have a little pity for me, Georgia,” he said, almost roughly; and she realised, with a sudden tightening of the heart, that he had used the same words that other day. “Do you think it’s an easy or a pleasant thing for a man to tell the woman he loves—as I love you—that such things are before her as seem to be before us now? No, don’t start and turn your back on me—you have brought this on yourself. You laughed at me when I told you I loved you long ago, and again and again since we first met this year you have shown me pretty plainly that nothing I could do would ever change your tone. When I begged your pardon after that fuss about your doctoring the Chief, and you wouldn’t listen to me, I couldn’t have believed a woman would have spoken in such a way to the greatest blackguard on earth, let alone a man that had put himself at her mercy. Your mercy, indeed!—I believe you enjoy tormenting me. But you can go too far—even with me. Under ordinary circumstances I should have respected your wishes, and not persecuted you with my unwelcome attentions; but this is not an ordinary time, and you have goaded me beyond bearing, and I tell you—and you shall hear it—that I shall love you till I die—and beyond. You can’t alter it.”

He paused, expecting an outburst of anger, but Georgia’s head was turned away from him, and she made no answer.

“I didn’t mean to make you cry,” he said at last, apprehensively, his conscience smiting him for his roughness. “I know by what you have said that you have enough to bear already.”

“I am not crying!” said Georgia, resenting the accusation indignantly, and for one moment she turned her eyes upon him. They were shining, but not with tears. Dick thought that it was with anger, and her words served to confirm him in his belief. “I have tried to be patient with you,” she went on quickly, and her voice seemed to him to be throbbing with wounded pride, “but you are too unfair. You say you love me, but how do you treat me? Since we met last March—as you said just now; you see that I can hoard up grudges as well as you—you have done nothing but parade your contempt for me, and for everything I care for. What do you know about the New Woman? What do you know about me? and yet you have persecuted me continually with the name, which you, at any rate, meant to be one of reproach. I don’t know what your idea of love may be, but I think that it ought to teach a little tenderness—a little consideration for the other person’s feelings. How dare you tell me that you love me? You might, if you could bend me to your own pattern; but you can’t, and so you have done your best to show that you dislike me. Not that your dislike signifies to me in the least, of course,” with superb disdain, “but I don’t see why you should render yourself generally unpleasant by exhibiting it.”

“Make a little allowance for me, please. I loved you, and you would not listen to me. I daresay I have made an awful idiot of myself, but——”

“Don’t say that you had excuse. I was always willing to be friends with you, if you would only——”

“Friends? I don’t want your friendship. There can be no such thing between you and me. I must have all or nothing.”