"Oh, you say this because you think you ought to be grateful!" cried
Annesley. "But I don't want gratitude. This is the first time I've ever
_lived_. I owe that to you. And it's more than you can owe to me."

The man laughed, a happy laugh, as though danger were miles away instead
of on his heels. "You know almost as much about men as a child knows,
Miss Grayle," he said, "if you think I'm one of the sort--if there _is_
such a sort--who would tie himself to a woman for gratitude. I've just
one motive in wanting you to marry me. I love you and need you. I
couldn't feel more if I'd known you months instead of hours."

The wonder of it swept over Annesley in a flood. Even in her dreams--and
she had had wild dreams sometimes--she had never pictured a man such as
this loving her and wanting her. To the girl's mind he was so attractive
that it seemed impossible his choice of her could be from the heart. She
would wake up to a stale, flat to-morrow and find that none of these
things had really happened.

Still, she might as well live up to the dream while it lasted, and have
the more to remember.

"It's a fairy story, surely!" she said, trying to laugh. "There are so
many beautiful girls in the world for a man like you, that I----"

"A man like me! What _am_ I like?"

"Oh, it's hard to put into words. But--well, you're brave; I'm sure of
that."