she would come to know it one way or another.

At that moment she leaned over the table and stretched a hand to arrange
something. The perfection of her poise, the beauty of her lines, the
charm of her face seized Carnac, and, with an impulse, he ran his arm
around her waist.

"Junia--Junia!" he said in a voice of rash, warm feeling.

She was like a wild bird caught in its flight. A sudden stillness held
her, and then she turned her head towards him, subdued inquiry in her
eyes. For a moment only she looked--and then she said:

"Take your arm away, please."

The conviction that he ought not to make any sign of love to her broke
his sudden passion. He drew back ashamed, yet defiant, rebuked, yet
rebellious. It was like a challenge to her. A sarcastic smile crossed
her lips.

"What a creature of impulses you are, Carnac! When we were children the
day you saved Denzil years ago you flung your arms around me and kissed
me. I didn't understand anything then, and what's more I don't think you
did. You were a wilful, hazardous boy, and went your way taking the
flowers in the garden that didn't belong to you. Yet after all these
years, with an impulse behind which there is nothing--nothing at all,
you repeat that incident."

Suddenly passion seemed to possess her. "How dare you trifle with things
that mean so much! Have you learned nothing since I saw you last? Can