done had been done through a rigid sense of honour and that chivalry
which goes hand in hand with honour--the chivalry with which no woman
would have credited him.

That Monck had nought but the most disinterested regard for any woman,
he firmly believed, and probably that conviction gave added strength to
his position. That he should fight thus for a mere principle, though
incomprehensible in Dacre's opinion, was a circumstance that carried
infinitely more weight than more personal championship. Monck was the
one man of his acquaintance who had never displayed the smallest desire
to compete for any woman's favour, who had never indeed shown himself to
be drawn by any feminine attractions, and his sudden assumption of
authority was therefore unassailable. In yielding to the greater power,
Dacre yielded to a moral force rather than to human compulsion. And
though driven sorely against his will, he respected the power that
drove. His dumb gesture of acquiescence conveyed as much as he turned
away relinquishing the struggle.

He had fought hard, and he had been defeated. It was bitter enough, but
after all he had had his turn. The first hot rapture was already
passing. Love in the wilderness could not last for ever. It had been
fierce enough--too fierce to endure. And characteristically he reflected
that Stella's cold beauty would not have held him for long. He preferred
something more ardent, more living. Moreover, his nature demanded a
certain meed of homage from the object of his desire, and undeniably
this had been conspicuously lacking. Stella was evidently one to accept
rather than to give, and there had been moments when this had slightly
galled him. She seemed to him fundamentally incapable of any deep
feeling, and though this had not begun to affect their relations at
present, he had realized in a vague fashion that because of it she would