'So far,' he said, in the same tone, 'I have always got what I wanted.

I don't mean to say,' he continued quickly, as she made a movement,

'that I expected you to accept me when I asked you to marry me, at our

second meeting. I was sure you would not. I merely put in a claim--that

was all.' Margaret turned a little and rested her elbow on the back of her chair,

facing him.

'And I told you there was some one else. Do you understand clearly? I

am frank, too. I love another man, and he loves me.' 'And you are going to be married, I suppose?' said Logotheti, his lids

contracting a very little.

'I hope so. Some day.' 'Ah! There is an obstacle. I see. A question of fortune, I daresay?' 'No.' Her tone was meant to discourage further questioning, and she

moved in her seat and looked away again.

'That man does not love you,' Logotheti said. 'If he did, nothing could

hinder your marriage, since he knows that you are willing.' 'There may be a reason you don't understand,' Margaret answered

reluctantly.

'A man who loves does not reason. A man who wants a certain woman wants

nothing else, any more than a man who is dying of thirst can want

anything but drink. He must have it or die, and nothing can keep him

from it if he sees it.' There was a shade of more energy in his tone now, though he still spoke

quietly enough. Margaret was silent again, possibly because the same

thought had crossed her own mind during the last few days, and even an

hour ago, when she had met Lushington at the door. Since she was

willing to marry him, in spite of his birth, could he be in earnest as

long as he hesitated?

She wished that he might have said what Logotheti was saying now,

instead of reasoning with her about a point of honour.

'When people think themselves in love and hesitate,' Logotheti

continued, almost speaking her own thoughts aloud, 'it is because

something else in them is stronger than love, or quite as strong.' 'There may be honour,' said Margaret, defending Lushington in her mind,

out of sheer loyalty.

'There ought to be, sometimes, but it is more in the nature of real

love to tear honour to pieces than to be torn in pieces for it. I'm not

defending such things, I'm only stating a fact. More men have betrayed

their country for love than have sacrificed love to save their

country!' 'That's not a very noble view of love!' 'If you were passionately in love with a man, should you like him to

sacrifice you in order to save his country, especially if his country

were not yours? If it were your own, you might be as patriotic as he

and you would associate yourself with him in the salvation of your own

people. But that would not be a fair case. The question is whether, in

a matter that concerns him only and not yourself, you would set his

honour higher than his love for you and let yourself be sacrificed,

without feeling that if he had loved you as you would like to be loved

he would forfeit his honour rather than give you up.' 'That's a dreadfully hard question to answer!' Margaret smiled.




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