ithin her at the desolation of the words. "Nearly all
of us go through it some time," she said gently. "And if there isn't a
friend to stand by, it's very hard to bear. That is the part I want to
play--if you will let me. Won't you treat me as a friend?"

But Piers neither moved nor spoke. With his head still upon his arms he
stood silent.

She drew nearer to him. "Piers, I think I understand. I think you are a
little afraid of going too far, of--of--" her voice faltered a little in
spite of her--"of hurting my feelings. Is that it? Because,--my
dear,--you needn't be afraid any longer. If you really think I can make
you happy, I am willing--quite willing--to try."

The words were spoken, and with them she offered all she had, freely,
generously, with a quick love that was greater possibly than even she
realized.

She was standing close to him waiting for him to turn and clasp her in
his arms, as he had so nearly clasped her once against her will. But
seconds passed and he did not move, and a cold foreboding began to knock
at her heart lest after all--lest after all--his love for her had waned.

He stirred at last, just as she was on the point of turning from him,
stretched out a groping hand that found and drew her to his side. But
still he did not look at her or so much as raise his head.

He spoke after a moment in a choked voice that seemed to be wrung from
him by sheer physical torture. "Avery, don't--don't tempt me.
I--daren't!"

The anguish of the words went through her, banishing all thought of
anything else. Very suddenly she knew that he was fighting a desperate
battle for her sake, that he was striving with all the strength that was
in him to set her happiness before his own. And something that was
greater than pity entered into her with the knowledge, something so great
as to be all-possessing, compelling her to instant action.

She slipped her arm about his bent shoulders with a gesture of infinite
tenderness. "Piers--dear boy, what is it?" she said softly. "Is there
some trouble in your past--something you can't bear to speak of?
Remember, I am not a girl, I may understand--some things--better than
you think."

She felt his hold upon her tighten almost convulsively, but for a while
he made no answer.

Then at length slowly he raised his head and looked at her. "Do
you--really--think the past matters?" he said.

She met his eyes with their misery and their longing, and a tremor of
uncertainty w