He winced. And the calmness she had regained, which was so characteristic
of her, struck him with a new fear.

"I'm not that kind of a man," he said.

But she did not answer. His predicament became more trying.

"I'll take care of you," he assured her, after a moment. "If you'll only
trust me, if you'll only come to me I'll see that no harm comes to you."

She regarded him with a sort of wonder--a look that put a fine edge of
dignity and scorn to her words when they came.

"I told you I didn't want to be taken care of--I wanted to kill you, and
kill myself. I don't know why I can't what prevents me." She rose. "But
I'm not going to trouble you any more--you'll never hear of me again."

She would not trouble him, she was going away, he would never hear of her
again! Suddenly, with the surge of relief he experienced, came a pang. He
could not let her go--it was impossible. It seemed that he had never
understood his need of her, his love for her, until now that he had
brought her to this supreme test of self-revelation. She had wanted to
kill him, yes, to kill herself--but how could he ever have believed that
she would stoop to another method of retaliation? As she stood before him
the light in her eyes still wet with tears--transfigured her.

"I love you, Janet," he said. "I want you to marry me."

"You don't understand," she answered. "You never did. If I had married
you, I'd feel just the same--but it isn't really as bad as if we had been