"Yes, dear, it is dreadful," she said. "But the situation has made itself; we haven't made it. We must—we must be sensible, and try to look at it calmly, now it has come, not lose our heads. For instance, if you went away to-morrow, what would Maud think? Only to-day she was saying to me how happy you were here. That is not to be thought of. Besides, Charlie, I ask you to stop for my sake. I—I don't know what I should do if you went away just now. I might do something mad. And what conceivable harm can come if you stop? Besides, now that things are—as they are, we must think what to do, not act rashly, not—oh, Charlie, Charlie, it is dreadful, but it is wonderful. I never knew till now, never, never."
It was done. At that moment the essential Rubicon was passed. He had known perfectly well that the only possible thing for him to do, if he intended to be an honest man, was to leave at once, on any excuse, or on no excuse. He knew also that the situation was one about which any argument, any weighing of the possible advantages of this course or of that, was futile. No amount of reason plunged into the scale ought to affect the balance by a featherweight. And he yielded (and knew it) not to the reasons she gave, but to her. The reasons were specious enough to appeal to common sense, and he told himself that it was to these he yielded. But he knew it was not so; he yielded to his own desire and to hers.
"Yes, yes, I see," he said. "We must think over it, talk over it, see what is wisest. Lucia"
She raised her face toward him in a manner that admitted no misinterpretation, and he kissed her.
They stood apart and in silence a little; then voices laughter from the dark came a little nearer.
"Come," she said quickly, "we must come and meet them. We must be quite natural. Oh, Charlie, how easy! I am so gloriously happy. Just say you are happy too."
She had won; she had broken down the main defence. For the moment she had banished Maud from his mind as utterly as she had banished her from her own.
"No, not happy," he said. "Not that."
It was little more than an hour afterwards that Lucia alone in her bedroom, and, having dismissed her maid, she once more, as on a night at Brixham she had lit all the candles she could find, turned on every light, controlled by a whole board
