‘Yes.  I will answer you any question.’

’That is spoken like a man.  Tell me then—­is there at this moment any woman living who has a claim upon you—­a moral claim?’

‘No such woman exists.’

‘But—­do we speak the same language?’

‘Surely,’ he answered with great earnestness.  ’There is no woman to whom I am bound by any kind of obligation.’

A long wave rolled up, broke, and retreated, whilst Rhoda stood in silent uncertainty.

’I must put the question in another way.  During the past month—­ the past three months—­have you made profession of love—­have you even pretended love—­to any woman?’

‘To no woman whatever,’ he answered firmly.

‘That satisfies me.’

‘If I knew what is in your mind!’ exclaimed Everard, laughing.  ’What sort of life have you imagined for me?  Is this the result of Mary’s talk?’

‘Not immediately.’

’Still, she planted the suspicion.  Believe me, you have been altogether mistaken.  I never was the kind of man Mary thought me.  Some day you shall understand more about it—­in the meantime my word must be enough.  I have no thought of love for any woman but you.  Did I frighten you with those joking confessions in my letters?  I wrote them purposely—­as you must have seen.  The mean, paltry jealousies of women such as one meets every day are so hateful to me.  They argue such a lack of brains.  If I were so unfortunate as to love a woman who looked sour when I praised a beautiful face.  I would snap the bond between us like a bit of thread.  But you are not one of those poor creatures.’

He looked at her with some gravity.

’Should you think me a poor creature if I resented any kind of unfaithfulness?—­whether love, in any noble sense, had part in it or not?’

’No.  That is the reasonable understanding between man and wife.  If I exact fidelity from you, and certainly I should, I must consider myself under the same obligation.’

‘You say “man or wife.”  Do you say it with the ordinary meaning?’

’Not as it applies to us.  You know what I mean when I ask you to be my wife.  If we cannot trust each other without legal bonds, any union between us would be unjustified.’

Suppressing the agitation which he felt, he awaited her answer.  They could still read each other’s faces perfectly in a pale yellow to light from across the sea.  Rhoda’s manifested an intense conflict.

‘After all, you doubt of your love for me?’ said Barfoot quietly.

That was not her doubt.  She loved with passion, allowing herself to indulge the luxurious emotion as never yet.  She longed once more to feel his arms about her.  But even thus she could consider the vast issues of the step to which she was urged.  The temptation to yield was very strong, for it seemed to her an easier and a nobler thing to proclaim her emancipation from social statutes than to announce