Mr. Wilding pursed his lips and shifted his position. "It is difficult,
perhaps," said he, "but not impossible."

"It is impossible," she insisted firmly.

"I'll not quarrel with you for a word," he answered, mighty agreeable.
"Call it impossible, if you will. Admit, however, that it is all I can
suggest. You will do me the justice, I am sure, to see that in
expressing my willingness to accept your brother's expressions of regret
I am proving myself once more your very obedient servant. But that it
is you who ask it - and whose desires are my commands - I should let
no man go unpunished for an insult such as your brother put upon me.

She winced at his words, at the bow with which he had professed himself
once more her servant.

"It is no clemency that you offer him," she said. "You leave him a
choice between death and dishonour."

"He has," Wilding reminded her, "the chance of combat."

She flung back her head impatiently. "I think you mock me," said she.

He looked at her keenly. "Will you tell me plainly, madam," he begged,
"what you would have me do?"

She flushed under his gaze, and the flush told him what he sought to
learn. There was, of course, another way, and she had thought of it;
but she lacked - as well she might, all things considered - the courage