At the sound of Neill's voice Dunke had extinguished the candle and vanished in the darkness with Struve, the latter holding him by the arm in a despairing grip. Neill shouted again and again, as he relighted his candle, but there came no answer to his calls.
“We had better make for the shaft,” he said.
They set out on the long walk to the opening that led up to the light and the pure air. For a while they walked on in silence. At last he took her hand and guided her fingers across the seam on his wrist.
“It don't seem only four days since you did that, honey,” he murmured.
“Did I do that?” Her voice was full of self-reproach, and before he could stop her she lifted his hand and kissed the welt.
“Don't, sweet. I deserved what I got and more. I'm ready with that apology you didn't want then, Peggy.”
“But I don't want it now, either. I won't have it. Didn't I tell you I wouldn't? Besides,” she added, with a little leap of laughter in her voice, “why should you ask pardon for kissing the girl you were meant to—to——”
He finished it for her.
“To marry, Peggy. I didn't know it then, but I knew it before you said good-by with your whip.”
“And I didn't know it till next morning,” she said.