not now, when she was just beginning to feel that he still loved her, when she hoped that she could win him back.

She dared not make another confession to him.

After all, he might not understand; he might not sympathise with her struggles and temptation.

His love still dormant might sleep the sleep of death.
Perhaps he divined what was passing in her mind.

His whole attitude was one of intense longing--a veritable prayer for that confidence, which her foolish pride withheld from him.