His mind felt as if it were being torn asunder, so terrible was the swaying of his tightrope of indecision! On the one hand he knew that in a moment he must draw down upon the bed this hushed, submissive figure, standing thus patient and docile before him. On the other hand, a mounting fear⁠—a fear that had unspeakable awe in it, that had a supernatural shudder in it⁠—held him back. Beat by beat of his heart it held him back. It tugged at him like a chain fixed to a post.

“Slip off that sad-looking dress, I beg you, Chris! Let me see you all in white!”

Had he whispered those words aloud? Had he only thought them?

The form he loved best of all was here by his side⁠ ⁠… pliant⁠ ⁠… soft⁠ ⁠… submissive. This bed was her bed. They two were alone, without the faintest risk of interruption. Long ago had the last train from Weymouth come in!