“That’s a nice cheery motto,” commented Trenby lightly.  “They must have been a lugubrious lot in the good old days!”

“They weren’t so afraid of facing the truth as we are,” Nan made answer musingly.  “I wonder why we always try to shut our eyes against the fact of death? . . .  It’s there waiting for us round the corner all the time.”

“But there’s life and love to come first,” flashed out Roger.

Nan looked at him thoughtfully.

“Not for everyone,” she said.  Then suddenly:  “Why are you here to-day, Roger?  I told you to come on Monday.”

“I know you did.  But I couldn’t wait.  It was horrible, Nan, just getting a few words over the ’phone twice a day to say how you were.  I had to see for myself.”

His eyes sought her throat where the lash of the hunting-crop had wealed it.  The mark had almost disappeared.  With a sudden, passionate movement he caught her in his arms and pressed his lips against the faint scar.

“Nan!” he said hoarsely.  “Nan, say ‘yes’!  Say it quickly!”

She drew away from him, freeing herself from the clasp of his arms.

“I’m not sure it is ‘yes.’  You must hear what I have to say first.  You wouldn’t listen the other day.  But to-day, Roger, you must—­you must.”

“You’re not going to take back your promise?” he demanded jealously.

“It wasn’t quite a promise, was it?” she said gently.  “But it’s for you to decide—­when you know everything.”

“Then I’ll decide now,” he answered quickly.  “I want you—­Nan, how I want you!  I don’t care anything at all about the past—­I don’t want to know anything—­”

“But you must know”—­steadily.  “Perhaps when you know—­you won’t want me.”

“I shall always want you.”

Followed a pause.  Then Nan, with an effort, said quietly: 

“Do you want to marry a woman who has no love to give you?”

He drew a step nearer.

“I’ll teach you how to love,” he said unevenly.  “I’ll make you love me—­love me as I love you.”

“No, no,” she answered.  “You can’t do that, Roger.  You can’t.”

His face whitened.  Then, with his piercing eyes bent on her as though to read her inmost thoughts, he asked: 

“What do you mean?  Is there—­anyone else?”

“Yes.”  The answer came very low.

“And you care for him?”

She nodded.

“But we can never be anything to each other,” she said, still in that same low, emotionless voice.

“Then—­then—­you’d grow to care—­”

“No.  I shall never care for anyone else again.  That love has burnt up everything—­like a fire.”  She paused.  “You don’t want to marry—­an empty grate, do you?” she asked, with a sudden desperate little laugh.

Roger’s arm drew her closer.

“Yes, I do.  And I’ll light another fire there and by its warmth we’ll make our home together.  I won’t ask much, Nan dear—­only to be allowed to love you and make you happy.  And in time—­in time, I’ll teach you to love me in return and to forget the past.  Only say yes, sweetheart!  I’ll keep you so safe—­so safe!”