Yet they sufficed--to the man--and the woman is never too ready to count the cost when her heart declares its passion.
But the morrow was not to be denied.

Its bitter awakening had come.
In the very agony of a sublime withdrawal Iris realized what manner of man this was whom she had determined to thrust aside so that she might keep her troth.

She dared not look at him.

She could not compel her quivering lips to frame a word of excuse or reiterated resolve.

With a heart-breaking cry of sheer anguish she fled from him, running away along the deck with the uncertain steps of some sorely stricken creature of the wild.
He did not try to restrain her.