Merryon sat silent. Somehow he could not stir up his anger against her,
albeit his inner consciousness told him that she had been to blame; but
for the first time his passion was cooled. He held her without ardour,
the while he wondered.

That night he awoke to the sound of her low sobbing at his side. His
heart smote him. He put forth a comforting hand.

She crept into his arms. "Oh, Billikins," she whispered, "keep me with
you! I'm not safe--by myself."

The man's soul stirred within him. Dimly he began to understand what his
protection meant to her. It was her anchor, all she had to keep her from
the whirlpools. Without it she was at the mercy of every wind that blew.
Again cold doubt assailed him, but he put it forcibly away. He gathered
her close, and kissed the tears from her face and the trouble from her
heart.




CHAPTER VIII

THE MOUTH OF THE PIT


So Puck had her way and stayed.

She was evidently sublimely happy--at least in Merryon's society, but