"My dear d.i.c.k!" Averil put her hands into his, but her gesture was one of restraint. "You mustn't talk so wildly," she said. "And, dear boy, do try not to be quite so impulsive--so headstrong. You know, you--you--"

She broke off. Derrick, with a set jaw and burning eyes, was drawing her to him, strongly, irresistibly.

"Derrick!" she said, with a flash of anger.

"I can't help it!" Derrick said pa.s.sionately. "I've been counting on this, living for this. Averil I--I--you can call me mad if you like, but if you send me away again--I believe I shall shoot myself."

"What nonsense!" exclaimed Averil, half-angry, half-scornful.

He dropped her hands and stood quite still for the s.p.a.ce of a few seconds, his face white and twitching. And then, to her utter amazement, he sank heavily into a chair and covered his face with his hands.

"d.i.c.k!" she e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed.

Silence followed the word, a breathless silence. Derrick sat perfectly motionless, his fingers gripping his hair. At last Averil moved up to him, a little frightened by his stillness, and very intensely compa.s.sionate. She bent and touched his shoulder.

"d.i.c.k!" she said. "d.i.c.k! Don't!"

He stirred under her hand, but did not raise his head. "Get away, Averil!" he muttered. "You don't understand."

And quite suddenly Averil was transported back to the far, receding schooldays, when Derrick had got into trouble for smoking his first cigar. The memory unconsciously influenced her speech.

"But, d.i.c.k," she said persuasively, "don't you think you are the least bit in the world unreasonable? It's true I don't quite understand. We've been such splendid chums all our lives, I really don't see why we should begin to be anything different now. Besides, d.i.c.k"--there was appeal in her voice--"I don't truly want to get married. It seems such a silly thing to go and do when one had such really jolly times without. It does spoil things so."

Derrick sat up. He was still absurdly boyish, despite his four-and-twenty years.

"Look here, Averil!" he said doggedly. "If you won't have me, I'm not going to hang about after you like a tame monkey. It's going to be one thing or the other. I've made a big enough fool of myself over you. We can't be chums, as you call it"--a pa.s.sionate ring crept into his voice--"when all the while you're holding me off at arm's length as if I'd got the plague. So"--rising abruptly and facing her--"which is it to be?"

Averil looked at him. His face was still white, but his lips were sternly compressed. He was weak no longer. She was conscious of a sudden thrill of admiration banishing her pity. After all, was he indeed only a boy? He scarcely seemed so at that moment. He was, moreover, straight and handsome despite his gaunt appearance.

"Answer me, Averil!" he said with determination.

But Averil had no answer ready. She stood silent.

Derrick laid his hand on her arm. It was a light touch, but somehow it conveyed to her the fact that he was holding himself in with a tighter rein than ever before.

"Don't torture me!" he said, speaking quickly, nervously. "Tell me either to stay or--go!" His voice dropped on the last word, and for a second Averil saw the torture on his face.

It was too much for her resolution. All her life she had been this boy's chosen companion and confidante. She felt she could not turn from him now in his distress, and deliberately break his heart. Yet for one tumultuous second she battled with her impulse. Then--she yielded.

Somehow that look in Derrick's eyes compelled her.

She put her hands on his shoulders.

"d.i.c.k--stay!" she said.

His arms closed round her in a second. "You mean--" he said, under his breath.

"Yes, d.i.c.k," she answered bravely, "I do mean. Dear boy, don't ever look like that again! You have hurt me horribly."

Derrick turned her face up to his own and kissed her repeatedly and pa.s.sionately.

"You shall never regret it, my darling," he said. "You have turned my world into a paradise. I will do the same for yours."

"It doesn't take much to make me happy," Averil said, leaning her forehead against his shoulder. "I hope you will be a kind master, d.i.c.k, and let me have my own way sometimes."

"Master?" scoffed Derrick, kissing her hair. "You know you can lead me by the nose from world's end to world's end."

"I wonder," said Averil, with a little sigh. "Do you know, d.i.c.k, I'm not quite sure of that."

"What!" said Derrick softly. "Not--quite--sure!"

"Not when you look as you did thirty seconds ago," Averil explained.

"Never mind, dear old boy! I'm glad you can look like that, though, mind, you must never, never do it again if you live to be a hundred."

She looked up at him suddenly and clasped her hands behind his neck.

"You do love me, don't you, d.i.c.k?" she said.

"My darling, I worship you!" Derrick answered very solemnly.

And Averil drew his head down with a quivering smile and kissed him on the lips.

IV

CARLYON DEFENDS HIMSELF

"Ah, Derrick! I thought I could not be mistaken."

Derrick turned swiftly at the touch of a hand on his shoulder, and nearly tumbled into the roadway. He had been sauntering somewhat aimlessly down the Strand till pulled up in this rather summary fashion.

He now found himself staring at a tall man who had come up behind him--a man with a lined face and drooping eyelids, and a settled weariness about his whole demeanour which, somehow, conveyed the impression that, in his opinion, at least, there was nothing on earth worth striving for.

Derrick recovered his balance and stood still before him. Speech, however, quite unexpectedly failed him. The quiet greeting had scattered his ideas momentarily.

The hand that had touched his shoulder was deliberately transferred to his elbow.

"Come!" said his acquaintance, smiling a little. "We are blocking the gangway. I am staying at the Grand. If you are at liberty you might dine with me. By the way, how are you, old fellow?"

He spoke very quietly and wholly without affectation. There was a touch of tenderness in his last sentence that quite restored Derrick's faculties.

He shook his arm free from the other's hand with a vehemence of action that was unmistakably hostile.

"No, thanks, Colonel Carlyon!" he said, speaking fast and feverishly.

"If I were starving, I wouldn't accept hospitality from you!"

"Don't be a fool!" said Carlyon.