“I want to be married—­soon, very soon,” she told him softly.  “And then I want you to take me away with you into Nepal, as you planned ever so long ago.  And let us be alone together in the mountains—­quite alone as we were before.  Will you, Nick?  Will you?”

But again he had no answer for her.  He did not seem able to reply.  His head still lay against her shoulder.  His arm was still tense about her.  She fell silent, waiting for him.

At last he drew a deep breath that seemed to burst upwards from the very heart of him, and lifted his face with a jerk.

“My God!” he said.  “Is it true?”

His voice was oddly uneven; he seemed to produce it with difficulty.  But having broken the spell that bound him, he managed after a moment to continue.

“Are you quite sure you want to marry me,—­quite sure that to-morrow you won’t be scared out of your wits at the bare idea?  Have you left off being afraid of me?  Do you mean me really to take you at your word?”

“If you will, Nick,” she answered humbly.

“If I will!” he echoed, with sudden passion.  “I warn you, Muriel, you are putting yourself irrevocably in my power, and you will never break away again.  You may come to loathe me with your whole soul, but I shall never let you go.  Have you realised that?  If I take you now, I take you for all time.”

He spoke almost with violence, and, having spoken, drew back from her abruptly, as though he could not wholly trust himself.

But nothing could dismay her now.  She had fought her last battle, had made the final surrender.  Her fear was dead.  She stretched out her hands to him with unfaltering confidence.

“Take me then, Nick,” she said.

He took the extended hands with quick decision, first one and then the other, and laid them on his shoulders.

“Now look at me,” he said.

She hesitated, though not as one afraid.

“Look at me, Muriel!” he insisted.

Then, as she kept her eyes downcast, he put his hand under her chin and compelled her.

She yielded with a little quivering murmur of protest, and so for the first time in her life she deliberately met his look, encountering eyes so wide and so piercingly blue that she had a moment’s bewildered feeling of uncertainty, as though she had looked into the eyes of a stranger.  Then the colourless lashes descended again and veiled them as of old.  He blinked with his usual disconcerting rapidity and set her free.

“Yes,” he said.  “You’ve left off cheating.  And if you really care to marry me—­what’s left of me—­it’s a precious poor bargain, but—­I am yours.”

His voice cracked a little.  She fancied he was going to laugh.  And then, while she was still wondering, his arm went round her again and drew her closely to him.  She was conscious of a sudden, leaping flame behind the pale lashes, felt his hold tighten while the wrinkled face drew near,—­and with a sob she clasped her arms about his neck and turned her lips to his.