“Winn, come here,” said Claire. He came and knelt down beside her. She put her hands on his shoulders and looked deep into his eyes. He tried to keep them hard, but he failed.

“Don’t try and get round me!” he said threateningly. “You’ll make me dangerous if you do. It isn’t the least good!”

“Can you listen to what I say?” Claire asked quietly.

“I suppose so,” said Winn, guardedly. “I love every bit of you – I love the ground your chair’s on – but I’m not going to give in.”

“And that’s the way I love you,” she said. “I’d go with you to the world’s end, Winn, if I didn’t love you so much and you’d take me there; but you won’t, for just the same reason. We can’t do what would be unfair; we shouldn’t like it. It’s no use, darling; we shouldn’t like it.”

“That’s all you know about it,” said Winn, unappeasably. “Anyhow, we’re going to do it, whether you like it or not.”

Then she took her hands away from his shoulders and leaned back in her chair. He had never seen her look so frail and small, and he knew that she had never been so formidably strong.

“Oh, no, Winn,” she whispered; “I’m not. I’m not going to do it. If you wanted it, if you really wanted it with all of you, you wouldn’t be rough with me; you’d be gentle. You’re not being gentle because you don’t think it right, and I’m never going to do what you don’t think right.”

Winn drew a deep, hard breath. He threw his arms round her and pressed her against his heart.

“I’m not rough,” he muttered, “and you’ve got to do it! You’ve got to give in!”

Claire made no answer. She only clung to him, and every now and then she said his name under her breath as if she were calling to something in him to save her.

Whatever it was that she was calling to answered her. He suddenly bowed his head and buried it in her lap. She felt his body shake, and he began to sob, hard, dry sobs that broke him as they came. He held her close, with his face hidden. Claire pressed her hands on each side of his temples, feeling the throbbing of his heart. She felt as if something inside her were being torn to pieces, something that knocked its way against her side in a vain endeavor to escape. She very nearly gave in. Then Winn stopped as suddenly as he had begun.

“Sorry,” he said, “but this kind of thing is a bit wearing. I’m not going to unlock that door. Do you intend to stay all night here, or give me your promise?” He spoke steadily now; his moment of weakness was past. She could have gone then, but nothing would have induced her to leave him while he cried.

“I don’t intend to do either,” Claire said with equal steadiness. “When you think I ought to go, you’ll let me out.”

It struck Winn that her knowledge of him was positively uncanny.

“I don’t believe,” he said sharply, “you’re only nineteen. I believe you’ve been in love before!”

Claire didn’t say anything, but she looked past him at the door.

Her look maddened him.

“You’re playing with me!” he cried. “By Jove! you’re playing with me!” He caught her by the shoulders, and for a moment he believed that he was going to kill her; but her eyes never wavered. He was not hurting her, and she knew that he never would. She said:

“O my darling boy!”

Winn got up and walked to the window. When he came back, his expression had completely changed.

“Now cut along to bed,” he said quietly. “You’re tired. Go – at once, Claire.”

This time she knew she ought to go, but something held her back. She was not satisfied with the look in his eyes. He was controlled again, but it was a controlled desperation. She could not leave him with that.

Her mind was intensely alert with pain; she followed his eyes. They rested for a moment on the stand by his bed. He pushed the key across the table toward her, but she did not look at the key; she crossed the room and opened the drawer under the Bible.

She saw what she had expected to see. It was Winn’s revolver; upon it lay a snap-shot of Peter. He always kept them together.

Claire took out the revolver. Winn watched her, with his hands in his pockets.

“Be careful,” he said; “it’s loaded.”

She brought it to him and said:

“Now take all the things out of it.” Winn laughed, and unloaded it without a word. “Now open the window,” she ordered, “and throw them into the snow.” Winn obeyed. When he came back she put her arms around his neck and kissed him. “Now I’ll go,” she said.

“All right,” agreed Winn, gently. “Wait for me in the cloak-room, and I’ll take you across. But, I say, look here – will you ever forgive me? I’m afraid I’ve been a most fearful brute.”

Then Claire knew she couldn’t stand any more. She turned and ran into the passage. Fortunately, the cloak-room was empty. She pressed herself against a fur coat and sobbed as Winn had sobbed up-stairs; but she had not his arms to comfort her. She had not dared to cry in his arms.

They walked hand in hand across the snow from his hotel to the door of hers.

Claire knew that she could say anything she liked to Winn now, so she said what she had made up her mind to say.

“Winn dearest, do you know what I came down for this evening?”

He held her hand tighter and nodded.

“I guessed,” he said. “That was, you know, what rather did for me. You mean you aren’t going to let me come with you down the pass?”

“We mustn’t,” Claire whispered; and then she felt she couldn’t be good any more. It cost too much. So she added, “But you can if you like.” But there wasn’t any real need for Claire to be good now; Winn was good instead.

“No,” he said; “it’s much wiser not. You look thoroughly done up. I’m not going to have any more of this. Let’s breakfast together. You come over at eight sharp and arrange with Maurice to take you down at ten. That’s quite enough for you.”

Claire laughed. Winn stared at her, then in a moment he laughed, too.

“We’d better not take any more chances,” he explained. “Next time it might happen to us both together. Then you’d really be had! Thanks awfully for seeing me through. Good night.”

She went into the hotel without a word, and all her heart rebelled against her for having seen him through.

CHAPTER XXVII

The hour of parting crept upon them singularly quietly and slowly. They both pretended to eat breakfast, and then they walked out into Badrutt’s Park. They sat in the nearest shelter, hand in hand, looking over the gray, empty expanse of the rink. It was too early for any one to be about. Only a few Swiss peasants were sweeping the ice and Winn hardly looked upon Swiss peasants as human.

He asked Claire exactly how much money she had a year, and told her when she came of age what he should advise her to suggest to her trustees to put it in.

Then he went through all the things he thought she ought to have for driving down the pass. Claire interrupted him once to remind him about going to see Dr. Gurnet. Winn said he remembered quite well and would go. They both assured each other that they had had good nights. Winn said he thought Maurice would be all right in a few years, and that he didn’t think he was shaping for trouble. He privately thought that Maurice was not going to have any shape at all, but he omitted this further reflection.

He told her how much he enjoyed his regiment and explained laboriously how Claire was to think of his future, which was to be, apparently, a whirl of pleasure from morning till night.

They talked very disconnectedly; in the middle of recounting his future joys, Winn said:

“And then if anything was to happen to me, you know, I hope you’d think better of it and marry Lionel.”

Claire did not promise to marry Lionel, but she implied that even without marriage she, like Winn, was about to pass into an existence studded with resources and amusements; and then she added: