very gently, "Why not, Sylvia?"

"I'm afraid."

"Afraid--_of me?_"

"No--that is, not of you personally--but of marriage itself. I can't bear
yet--the thought of facing--passion."

The hand that had been stroking her hair dropped suddenly, and she felt
him draw away from her, with something almost like a groan, and put her
arms around his neck, clinging to him with all her strength.

"_Don't_--I love you--and love you--and _love you_--oh, can't I make you
see? Are you very angry with me, Austin?"

"No, darling, I'm not angry at all. How could I be? But I'm just
beginning to realize--though I thought I knew before--what a perfect hell
you've been through--and wondering if I can ever make it up to you."

"Then this doesn't seem to you dreadful--to have me ask for this?"

"Not half so dreadful as it would to have you look at me as you did on
Christmas night."

He began stroking her hair again, speaking reassuringly, his voice full
of sympathy.

"Don't cry, dearest--it's all right. There's nothing to worry over. It's
right that you should have your way about this--it's _my_ way, too, as