l travel."

"Shall you?"

"That is certainly the sensible thing to do."

"Shall you?"

She smoothed back the hair from her throbbing temples.

"He looked very much in need of help," suggested the mirror.

"Who?"

"Peter Donaldson."

"Oh," gasped Elaine, "why did he do it? Why did he do it?"

The mirror recognized the question as one which every woman has asked
at least once in her lifetime. But somehow this did not swerve her
from her insistence.

"You must judge him from what you yourself have seen of him," the
mirror harped back to Donaldson's own words.

"He acted bravely before me--before Ben. He did do bravely," cried the
girl.

"And yet below these acts he had a craven heart?" hinted she of the
mirror.

"No. No. It isn't possible! It isn't possible!"

"But he admitted the dreadful thing he tried to do."

"That was the folly of a moment. He has grown through it. He asked no
mercy--asked no pardon. Did n't you see the expression upon his
haggard face as he left the room?"

"Were you looking?" queried she of the mirror in surprise. "Your eyes
were away from him."

"But one couldn't help but see that!"

The woman in the mirror found herself suddenly put upon the defensive.

"Where has he gone?" cried the girl. "What is he going to do now?"

"Will he do bravely whatever lies before him?"

"Yes. He will! He will!"

"How do you know?"

"I know. That is enough."

"Then why do you not call him back?"

The girl's cheeks grew scarlet.

"The shame of what I told him yesterday!"

"Was it not a bit brave of him to turn away from you?"

"He should have explained to me at that time why he was going. He
needed me then."

"Do you not suppose that he knew it? Do you not suppose that it took
the strength of a dozen men to go alone to what he thought was waiting
for him?"

"I know nothing."

"And yet you saw his eyes as he stood before you then? And you saw his
eyes as he left you five minutes ago?"

"I won't see. I can't risk--again!"

"Yet you love him?"

Once again the flaming scarlet in her cheeks. Her lips trembled. She
turned away from the mirror.

"I said nothing of love," she insisted.

"Yet you love him?"

"Why did he do it?" she moaned.

"Yet you love him?"

"He did so bravely--he spoke so bravely, yet--"

"He learned. If, of all the world of men, you were to choose one to
stand by your side when hardest pressed, whom would you choose?"

"I would