It was absolutely necessary to conciliate her approbation of his conduct in this dilemma, by submitting to the decided unpleasantness of talking with her on a subject that fevered him, and of allowing her to suppose he required the help of her sagacity.

Such was the humiliation imposed upon him.

Further than this he had nothing to fear, for no woman could fail to be overborne by the masculine force of his brain in an argument.

The humiliation was bad enough, and half tempted him to think that his old dream of working as a hard student, with fair and gentle Dahlia ministering to his comforts, and too happy to call herself his, was best.

Was it not, after one particular step had been taken, the manliest life he could have shaped out?
Or did he imagine it so at this moment, because he was a coward, and because pride, and vanity, and ferocity alternately had to screw him up to meet the consequences of his acts, instead of the great heart?
If a coward, Dahlia was his home, his refuge, his sanctuary.