naturally dominant nature. She lost sight of her femininity in the
pursuit of her purpose; and as this was to win the man to her way of
thinking, she took the logical course of answering his argument. If
Leonard Everard had purposely set himself to stimulate her efforts in
this direction he could hardly have chosen a better way. It came
somewhat as a surprise to Stephen, when she heard her own words:

'I would make a good wife, Leonard! A husband whom I loved and
honoured would, I think, not be unhappy!' The sound of her own voice
speaking these words, though the tone was low and tender and more
self-suppressing by far than was her wont, seemed to peal like
thunder in her own ears. Her last bolt seemed to have sped. The
blood rushed to her head, and she had to hold on to the arms of the
rustic chair or she would have fallen forward.

The time seemed long before Leonard spoke again; every second seemed
an age. She seemed to have grown tired of waiting for the sound of
his voice; it was with a kind of surprise that she heard him say:

'You limit yourself wisely, Stephen!'

'How do you mean?' she asked, making a great effort to speak.

'You would promise to love and honour; but there isn't anything about
obeying.'

As he spoke Leonard stretched himself again luxuriously, and laughed
with the intellectual arrogance of a man who is satisfied with a
joke, however inferior, of his own manufacture. Stephen looked at
him with a long look which began in anger--that anger which comes