became of the money he gave
Phil for shoes! It argued an unresponsiveness in his own nature that
Phil had concealed her adventures as Lady Bountiful from him--and he had
thought she told him everything!

He was learning about Phil from the last person in the world who had any
right to know Phil. He had seen in her precociousness, her healthy
delight in books, nothing astonishing, and he had known nothing of her
scribbling. His irritation grew. He was impatient to escape from this
garden that Holton had spoken of as Kirkwood's graveyard; from this
cheerful ghost beside him, with her low, musical voice and her murmurous
laughter. His thoughts flew to Nan, to whom he now meant to go with his
last appeal.

It flashed upon him that he might assure his victory over Nan's qualms
by carrying to her the definite knowledge that there was absolutely no
hope, as he fancied Nan believed there was, that he and Lois might
bridge the wide chasm that had separated them for so many years and
renew the old tie. If he could go from Lois to Nan with that news, he
believed his case would be invincible. He would make the offer to Lois
now, on this spot whose associations might be supposed to create an
atmosphere of sentiment favorable to its serious consideration. The
interview had run into a dead wall. Quite imaginably his proximity had
begun to bore Lois. He idled with his stick, pondering. She rose
suddenly.

"I must go back; Phil won't know what's become of me."

"Perhaps it would be as well to tell her that we've met," he said. "In
fact, I think she should know."

"I prefer not," she answered with decision. "It might trouble her; she
might think--she thinks of everything!"

"Lois, there are ways--important ones--in which it would be best for
her, make her happier, if we could--try again!"

She raised her hand with one of her quick gestures, and it rested for an
instant on his arm. As she lifted her face he saw the tears bright in
her eyes.

"Don't say it; don't think of it!" she whispered brokenly.

"For Phil's sake we ought to do it if we can," he persisted, surprised
to find how unmoved he was.

"For Phil's sake we wouldn't if we could!" Their gaze met searchingly.
"It would be doing Phil a terrible wrong!"

"I don't understand; I can't follow that," he answered.

And still unmoved, untouched, he saw grief and fear in her eyes, her
face twitching with the pain of inner conflict.

"No; you don't understand!" she cried