"Apparently," Hamel observed drily. "And yet you must remember that you, too, are afraid of him. I need not remind you of our conversations, but there the truth is. You praise his virtues and his charities, you pity him, and yet you go about with a load of fear, and - forgive me - of secret terror in your heart, you and Gerald, too. As for your mother -"
"Don't!" she interrupted suddenly. "Why do you bring me here to talk like this? You cannot alter things. Nothing can be altered."
"Can't it!" he replied. "Well, I will tell you the real reason of my having brought you here and of my having made this confession.
I brought you here because I could not bear to go on living, if not under your roof, at any rate in the neighbourhood, without telling you the truth. Now you know it. I am here to watch Mr. Fentolin.
I am going on watching him. You can put him on his guard, if you like; I shan't complain. Or you can -"
He paused so long that she looked at him. He moved a little closer to her, his fingers suddenly gripped her hand.
"Or you can marry me and come away from it all," he concluded quietly. "Forgive me, please - I mean it."
For a moment the startled light in her eyes was followed by a delicious softness. Her lips were parted, she leaned a little towards him. Then suddenly she seemed to remember. She rose with swift alertness to her feet.
"I think," she said, "that we had better play golf."
"But I have asked you to marry me," he protested, as he scrambled up.
"Your caddy has found your ball a long time ago," she pointed out, walking swiftly on ahead.
He played his shot and caught her up.
"Miss Fentolin - Esther," he pleaded eagerly, "do you think that I am not in earnest? Because I am. I mean it. Even if I have only known you for a few days, it has been enough. I think that I knew it was coming from the moment that you stepped into my railway carriage."
"You knew that what was coming?" she asked, raising her eyes suddenly.
"That I should care for you."
"It's the first time you've told me she reminded him, with a queer little smile. "Oh, forgive me, please! I didn't mean to say that.
I don't want to have you tell me so. It's all too ridiculous and impossible."
"Is it? And why?"
"I have only known you for three days."
"We can make up for that."
"But I don't - care about you. I have never thought of any one in that way. It is absurd," she went on.
"You'll have to, sometime or other," he declared. "I'll take you travelling with me, show you the world, new worlds, unnamed rivers, untrodden mountains. Or do you want to go and see where the little brown people live among the mimosa and the cherry blossoms? I'll take you so far away that this place and this life will seem like a dream."
Her breath caught a little.
"Don't, please," she begged. "You know very well - or rather you don't know, perhaps, but I must tell you - that I couldn't. I am here, tied and bound, and I can't escape."
"Ah! dear, don't believe it," he went on earnestly. "There isn't any bond so strong that I won't break it for you, no knot I won't untie, if you give me the right."
They were climbing slowly on to the tee. He stepped forward and pulled her up. Her hand was cold. Her eyes were raised to his, very softly yet almost pleadingly.
"Please don't say anything more," she begged. "I can't - quite bear it just now. You know, you must remember - there is my mother. Do you think that I could leave her to struggle alone?"
His caddy, who had teed the ball, and who had regarded the proceedings with a moderately tolerant air, felt called upon at last to interfere.
"We'd best get on," he remarked, pointing to two figures in the distance, "or they'll say we've cut in."
Hamel smote his ball far and true. On a more moderate scale she followed his example. They descended the steps together.
"Love-making isn't going to spoil our golf," he whispered, smiling, as he touched her fingers once more.
She looked at him almost shyly.
"Is this love-making?" she asked.
They walked together from the eighteenth green towards the club-house. A curious silence seemed suddenly to have enveloped them. Hamel was conscious of a strange exhilaration, a queer upheaval of ideas, an excitement which nothing in his previous life had yet been able to yield him. The wonder of it amazed him, kept him silent. It was not until they reached the steps, indeed, that he spoke.
"On our way home -" he began.
