She was rather breathless by this time. He pressed his advantage, holding
her close.

"Beloved, I've found you. Suppose I lost you! Suppose, when you were
somewhere in the city without me, you got run over or something." Even as
she was, strained to him, she saw the horror that the thought conjured in
his eyes, and touched his cheek with her hand, protectingly.

"No," he pleaded, "don't let us run any risks with our wonderful
happiness, don't let us ever leave each other!" He looked imploringly at
her.

She saw that for Stefan what he urged was right. Her love drew her to
him, and upon its altar she laid her own retarding instinct in happy
sacrifice. She drew his head to hers, and holding his face in the cup of
her hands, kissed him with an almost solemn tenderness. This was her
surrender. She took upon herself the burden of his happiness, even as she
yielded to her own. It was a sacrament. He saw it only as a response.

Later in the day Stefan sought out the New England spinster, Miss Mason,
who sat opposite to him at table. He had entirely ignored her hitherto,
but he remembered hearing her talk familiarly about New York, and his
male instinct told him that in her he would find a ready confidante. Such
she proved, and a most flattered and delighted one. Moreover she
proffered all the information and assistance he desired. She had moved
from Boston five years ago, she said, and shared a flat with a widowed
sister uptown. If they docked that night Miss Elliston could spend it
with them. The best and cheapest places to go to near the city, she
assured him, were on Long Island. She mentioned one where she had spent a