“Not until you have quite made up your mind to be engaged to me,” said Mordaunt.

She looked at him quickly.  “No, not then either.  Not—­not till I say you may.”

He laughed a little; but there was something very protecting, infinitely reassuring, in his grasp.  “And if I accept that condition,” he said—­“it’s a very despotic one, by the way—­but if I accept it, may I consider that you are engaged to me?”

Chris hesitated.

“Not if I tell you that I love you,” he said, “that I want you more than anything else in life, that I would give the soul out of my body to make you happy?”

His voice was sunk very low.  There was more of restraint than emotion in his utterance.  He spoke as a man who knows himself to be upon holy ground.

And Chris was awed.  The very quietness of the man made her tremble.  She knew instinctively that here was something colossal, something that dominated her, albeit half against her will.

She closed her fingers very tightly upon his hand, but she said nothing.

He sat silent for several seconds, closely watching her, seeking to read her downcast eyes.  But she would not raise them.  Her heart was beating very quickly, and her breath came and went like the breath of a frightened bird.

At last very gently he moved, drew her to him, put his arm about her.  “Are you afraid of me, Chris?”

She nestled to him with a little gesture that was curiously pathetic.  With her face securely hidden against him, she whispered, “Yes.”

“My darling, why?” he said very tenderly.

“I don’t know why,” murmured Chris.

“Surely not because I love you?” he said.

She nodded against his shoulder.  “You ought not to love me like that.  It’s too much.  I’m not good enough.”

“My little girl,” he said, “I am not worthy to hold your hand in mine.”

His hand was on her hair, stroking, fondling, caressing.  She nestled closer, without lifting her face.

“You don’t know me in the least.  I’m not a bit nice really.  I get up to all sorts of pranks.  I’m wild and flighty.  Ask Aunt Philippa if you want to know.”

“I know you better than Aunt Philippa, dear,” he said.

“Oh no, you don’t.  You’ve only seen my good side.  I’m always on my best behaviour with you.”

“Another excellent reason for marrying me,” said Mordaunt.

“Oh, but I shan’t be always.  That’s just it.  You—­you will be quite shocked some day.”

“I will take the risk,” he said.

“I don’t think you ought to,” murmured Chris.  “It doesn’t seem quite fair.”

His hand pressed her head very gently.  “Meaning that you don’t love me?” he said.

She made a vehement gesture of denial.  “Of course not.  I—­I’d be a little beast if I didn’t, specially after the way you helped me with Cinders long ago.  I never forgot that—­never!  Only I do think—­before you marry me—­you ought to know how horrid I can be.  It—­it’s buying a pig in a poke if you don’t.”