What answer could she give him--she who had found one man's love vain and betwixt whom and the man she really loved there was a stern barrier set?
At her silence a swift fear seized him.
"Nan," he said, his voice a little hoarse.

"Nan, is it--no good ?" Then, as she still made no answer, he let his arms fall heavily to his side.
"God!" he muttered.

And his eyes held a blank, dazed look like those of a man who has just received a blow.
Nan caught him by the arm.
"No, no, Roger!" she cried quickly.

"Don't look like that! I didn't mean--" The sudden expression of radiance that sprang into his face silenced the remainder of the words upon her lips--the words of explanation that should have been spoken.
"Then you do care, after all! Nan, there's no one else, is there ?" "No," she said very low.
He stretched out his arms and drew her gently within them, and for a moment she had neither the heart nor the courage to wipe that look of utter happiness from his face by telling him the truth, by saying blankly: "I don't love you." He turned her face up to his and, stooping, kissed her with sudden passion.
"My dear!" he said, "my dear!" Then, after a moment: "Oh, Nan, Nan, I can hardly believe that you really belong to me!" Nan could hardly believe it either.

It seemed just to have _happened_ somehow, and her conscience smote her.