“Isabel, I’m sick of that formula.  You’re going to marry me, not Val.”

“—­You’re not one-third English.”

“I’ve lived in countries where they knew how to manage women,” Lawrence muttered.

“With a whip?”

“No.”

“What a pity!”

“No, the other method is more effective.”

“You terrify me,” her eyes were sparkling now like a diamond.  “Don’t fling any more of those dark threats at me or I shall never marry you at all.  Some day you’ll be madly jealous of me like Major Clowes—­you are like him:  you could be just as brutal:  and I’m not like Laura—­and you’ll lure me out of England and wreak a mysterious vengeance.”

“I wish we were out of England now.”

“So do I. Oh Lawrence, I’d sell my soul to go to Egypt!”

“Red-hot days and blue sands in the moonlight.  Shall I take you there for our honeymoon?”

“Or Spain:  or Sicily:  or what about Majorea?—­ Let’s slip off alone in a nom de plume and an aeroplane to some place where no one ever goes, all roses and lemon thyme and honey-coloured cliffs and a bay of blue sea—­”

“Should you like to be alone with me?”

“Yes ... why not?”

“Good!” said Hyde laughing.  “I see no reason if you don’t.”  He put his hand before his eyes, which were throbbing as though he had looked too long at a bright light.  But Isabel pulled down his wrist.  “Don’t do that.  I like to watch your eyes.  I allow no reserves, Lawrence.  And isn’t it rather too late to lock the door?  I’ve seen you—­”

“Isabel!” He freed himself and stood up.  “I beg your pardon, but you must not—­ I can’t stand—­” His face was burning.  Isabel had not realized—­it is difficult for a young girl to realize, convinced of her own insignificance—­how deeply his pride had been cut overnight, but she was under no delusion now.  He was hot with shame and anger, and had to wait to fight them down before he could go on.  “Nineteen are you—­or nine?  I can’t play with you today.  Make allowance for me, dearest!  I’m in a most difficult position.  I’ve done incalculable mischief, and, to tell you the truth, I shouldn’t have chosen to raise this subject again till I’m clear of it.  Your people may very fairly object.  My cousin is threatening a divorce action.  He’s mad:  and no decent lawyer would take his case into court:  but the fact remains that poor Laura has been turned out of doors, and for that I am, in myself-centred carelessness, to blame.  You won’t misunderstand me, will you, if I say that while this abominable business is hanging over me we can’t be formally engaged?  Val must be told—­nothing would induce me to keep him in the dark for an hour.  But for all that I shan’t know how to face him.  What! ask him for you, and in the same breath tell him that Laura has been turned adrift because I’ve compromised her?  If I were Val there’d be the devil and all to pay.  In the meantime I must—­I must be sure of you.  But you change like the wind:  last night you refused me, and to-day . . .”  He walked over to the window and stood looking out into the garden, fighting down one of those tremendous storms of memory which swept over him from time to time and made the present seem absolutely one with the past.