me about it--his hand's so illegible."
He wandered to the other end of the room and then turned and stood
before her. "I've been thinking of writing to Flamel," he said.

She looked up.

"There's one point," he continued, slowly, "that I ought to clear up.
I told him you'd known about the letters all along; for a long time, at
least; and I saw it hurt him horribly. It was just what I meant to do,
of course; but I can't leave him to that false impression; I must write
him."

She received this without outward movement, but he saw that the depths
were stirred. At length she returned, in a hesitating tone, "Why do you
call it a false impression? I did know."

"Yes, but I implied you didn't care."

"Ah!"

He still stood looking down on her. "Don't you want me to set that
right?" he tentatively pursued.

She lifted her head and fixed him bravely. "It isn't necessary," she
said.

Glennard flushed with the shock of the retort; then, with a gesture
of comprehension, "No," he said, "with you it couldn't be; but I might
still set myself right."

She looked at him gently. "Don't I," she murmured, "do that?"

"In being yourself merely? Alas, the rehabilitation's too complete!
You make me seem--to myself even--what I'm not; what I can never be.
I can't, at times, defend myself from the delusion; but I can at least
enlighten others."

The flood was loosened, and kneeling by her he caught her hands. "Don't
you see that it's become an obsession with me? That if I could strip
myself down to the last lie--only there'd always be another one left
under it!--and do penance naked in the market-place, I should at least
have the relief of easing one anguish by another? Don't you see that the
worst of my torture is the impossibility of such amends?"

Her hands lay in his without returning pressure. "Ah, poor woman, poor
woman," he heard her sigh.

"Don't pity her, pity me! What have I done to her or to you, after all?
You're both inaccessible! It was myself I sold."

He took an abrupt turn away from her; then halted before her again. "How
much longer," he burst out, "do you suppose you can stand it? You've
been magnificent, you've been inspired, but what's the use? You can't
wipe out the ignominy of it. It's miserable for you and it does HER no
good!"

She lifted a vivid face. "That's the thought I can't bear!" she cried.

"What thought?"

"That it does her no good--all you're feeling, all you're suffering. Can
it be tha