As for Dinah, she led her fiance back to her father’s den in considerable trepidation.  To be compelled to resist her mother’s will was a state of affairs that filled her with foreboding.

But the moment she was alone with him she forgot all but the one tremendous fact of his presence, for with the closing of the door he had her in his arms.

She clung to him desperately close, feeling as one struggling in deep waters, caught in a great current that would bear her swiftly, irresistibly,—­whither?

He laughed at her trembling with careless amusement.  “What, still scared, my brown elf?  Where is your old daring?  Aren’t you allowed to have any spirit at all in this house?”

She answered him incoherently, straining to keep her face hidden out of reach of his upturning hand.  “No,—­no, it’s not that.  You don’t understand.  It’s all so new—­so strange.  Eustace, please—­please, don’t kiss me yet!”

He laughed again, but he did not press her for the moment.  “Your father and I have had no end of a talk,” he said.  “Do you know what has come of it?  Would you like to know?”

“Yes,” she murmured shyly.

He was caressing the soft dark ringlets that clustered about her neck.

“About getting married, little sweetheart,” he said.  “You want to get it over quickly and so do I. There’s no reason why we shouldn’t in fact.  How about the beginning of next month?  How about April?”

“Oh, Eustace!” She clung to him closer still; she had no words.  But still that sense of being caught, of being borne against her will, possessed her, filling her with dread rather than ecstasy.  Whither was she going?  Ah, whither?

He went on with his easy self-assurance, speaking as if he held the whole world at his disposal.  “We will go South for the honeymoon.  I’ve crowds of things to show you—­Rome, Naples, Venice.  After that we’ll come back and go for that summer trip in the yacht I promised you.”

“And Isabel too—­and Scott?” asked Dinah, in muffled accents.

He laughed over her head, as at the naive prattling of a child.  “What!  On our honeymoon?  Oh, hardly, I think.  I’ll see to it that you’re not bored.  And look here, my elf!  I won’t have you shy with me any more.  Is that understood?  I’m not an ogre.”

“I think you are—­rather,” murmured Dinah.

He bent over her, his lips upon her neck.  “You—­midget!  And you think I’m going to devour you?  Well, perhaps I shall some day if you go on running away.  There’s a terrible threat!  Now hold up your head, Daphne—­Daphne—­and let me have that kiss!”

She hesitated a while longer, and then feeling his patience ebbing she lifted her face impulsively to his.  “You will be good to me?  Promise!  Promise!” she pleaded tremulously.

He was laughing still, but his eyes were aflame.  “That depends,” he declared.  “I can’t answer for myself when you run away.  Come!  When are you going to kiss me first?  Isn’t it time you began?”