"If you will do me the honour to become my wife ..." he began, but got
no further, for she snatched away her hand, her cheeks crimsoning, her
eyes aflame with indignation. He stepped back, crimsoning too. She had
dashed the gentleness from his mood. He was angered now and tigerish.

"Oh!" she panted. "It is to affront me! Is thisthe time or place..."

He cropped her flow of indignant speech ere it was well begun. He
caught her in his arms, and held her tight, and so sudden was the act,
so firm his grip that she had not the thought or force to struggle.

"All time is love's time, all places are love's place," he told her,
his face close to her own. "And of all time and places the present
ever preferable to the wise - for life is uncertain and short at best.
I bring you worship, and you answer me with scorn. But I shall prevail,
and you shall come to love me in very spite of your own self."

She threw back her head, away from his as far as the bonds he had cast
about her would allow. "Air! Air!" she panted feebly.

"Oh, you shall have air enough anon," he answered with a half-strangled
laugh, his passion mounting ever. "Hark you, now - hark you, for
Richard's sake, since you'll not listen for my own nor yours. There is
another course by which I can save both Richard's life and honour. You
know it, and you counted upon my generosity to suggest it. But you
overlooked the thing on which you should have counted. You overlooked
my love. Count upon that, my Ruth, and Richard shall have naught to
fear. Count upon that, and when we meet this evening, Richard and I,
it is I who will tender the apology, I who will admit that I was wrong