“If I were a woman like you and wouldn’t marry a man who loved me like Jaff Chayne, and who had done for me all that Jaff Chayne had done for you, I’d pray to God to blast me and fill my body with worms.”

* * * * *

And then she burst out of the room, and, like a child seeking protection, came and threw herself down by my side.

What happened when she left them I know, because Jaffery kept me up till three o’clock in the morning narrating it to me, while he poured into his Gargantuan self hogsheads of whisky and soda.

* * * * *

When Liosha had gone, they eyed one another for a while in embarrassing silence, until Doria spoke: 

“She misunderstood—­when she came in.  Quite natural.  It was your touch of pity that I couldn’t bear.  I wasn’t repelling you, as she seemed to think.”

“It cut me to the heart to see you in such grief,” said Jaffery.  “I only thought of comforting you.”

“I know.”  She sat on a chair by the window and looked out at the pouring rain.

“Tell me,” she said, without turning round, “what did she mean by saying she had the right to interfere in your affairs?”

“She saved my life at the risk of her own,” replied Jaffery.

“I see.  And you saved my life once; so perhaps you have rights over me.”

“That would be damnable!” he cried.  “Such a thought has never entered my head.”

“It is firmly fixed in mine,” said Doria.

She sat for a while, with knitted brows deep in thought.  Jaffery stood dejectedly by the fire, his hands in his pockets.  Presently she rose.

“Besides saving my life and doing for me the things I know, there must be many things you’ve done for me that I never heard of—­like this sacrifice of the Persian expedition.  Liosha was right.  I ought to go on my knees to you.  But I can’t very well do that, can I?”

“No,” replied Jaffery, scrabbling at whiskers and beard.  “That would be stupid.  You mustn’t worry about me at all.  Whatever I did for you, my dear, I’d do a thousand times over again!”

“You must have your reward, such as it is.  God knows you have earned it.”

“Don’t talk about rights or rewards,” said he.  “As I’ve said repeatedly this afternoon, I’ve forfeited even your thanks.”

“And I’ve said I forgive you—­if there’s anything to forgive,” she smiled, just a little wearily.  “So that is wiped out.  All the rest remains.  Let us bury all past unhappiness between us two.”

“I wish we could.  But how?”

“There is a way.”

“What is that?”

“You make things somewhat hard for me.  You might guess.  But I’ll tell you.  Liosha again was right. . . .  If you want me still, I will marry you.  Not quite yet; but, say, in six months’ time.  You are a great-hearted, loyal man”—­she continued bravely, faltering under his gaze—­“and I will learn to love you and will devote my life to making you happy.”