I needed you."

"You needed me?"

"Yes," he answered, "I needed you. I needed you long ago."

"But how--why?"

"To show me the joy there is in the sunlight wherever it strikes; to
take me with you into this picture."

Their eyes met.

"Have I done that?" she asked.

"Yes."

She shook her head.

"I 'm afraid not," she disclaimed, "because the joy has n't been in my
own heart."

"Nor was it in mine--then."

Her eyes turned back to his. The silver in them came to the top like
the moon reflection on dark waters through fading clouds. He was
leaning a little towards her.

"It seems to be something that we can't get alone," he explained.

"Perhaps it is," she pondered, "perhaps."

She started back a little, as one who, lost in a sunset, leans too far
over the balcony. Then she smiled. Donaldson's heart answered the
smile.

"Your coffee is cooling," she said. "May I pour you some fresh?"

He passed his cup automatically. But the act was enough to bring him
back. A moment gone the room had grown misty. Something had made his
throat ache. He felt taut with a great unexpressed yearning. He
became conscious of his breakfast again. He sipped his hot coffee.

"I suppose," he reflected, "you ought to know something about me."

"I am interested," she answered, "but I don't think it matters much."

Again he saw in her marvelous eyes that look of complete confidence
that had thrilled him first on that mad ride. Again he realized that
there is nothing finer in the world. For a moment the room swam before
him at the memory of his doom. But her calm gaze steadied him at once.
He must cling to the Now.

"I have n't much I can tell you," he resumed. "My parents died when I
was young. They were New England farm-folk and poor. After I was left
alone, I started in to get an education without a cent to my name. It
took me fifteen years. I graduated from college and then from the law
school. I came here to New York and opened an office. That is all."

He waved his hand deprecatingly as though ashamed that it was so slight
and undramatic a tale. But she leaned towards him with sudden access
of interest.

"Fifteen years, and you did it all alone! You must have had to fight."

"In a way," he answered.

"Will you tell me more about it?" she asked eagerly.

"It's not very interesting," he laughed. "It was mostly a grind--just
a plain, unceasing grind. It was n't very exciting--just getting any