ten.

"We must n't talk of that," he said. "We must n't think of it."

Yet, of all the many things they discussed this morning, nothing left
Marjory more to think about. It seemed that, so far, her freedom had
done nothing but harm. She had intended no harm. She had desired only
to lead her own life day by day, quite by herself. So she had fled
from Peter--with this result; then she had fled from Teddy, who had
lost his head completely; finally she had fled, not from Monte but with
him, because that seemed quite the safest thing to do. It had proved
the most dangerous of all! If she had driven Peter blind, Monte--if he
only knew it--had brought him sweet revenge, because he had made her,
not blind, but something that was worse, a thousand times worse!

There was some hope for Peter. It is so much easier to cure blindness
than vision. Always she must see the light that had leaped to Monte's
eyes, kindled from the fire in her own soul. Always she must see him
coming to her outstretched arms, knowing that she had lost the right to
lift her arms. Perhaps she must even see him going to other arms, that
flame born of her breathed into fuller life by other lips. If
not--then the ultimate curse of watching him remain just Monte, knowing
he might have been so much more. This because she had dared trifle
with that holy passion and so had made herself unworthy of it.

Peter was telling her of his work; of what he had accomplished already
and of what he hoped to accomplish. She heard him as from a distance,
and answered mechanically his questions, while she pursued her own
thoughts.

It seemed almost as if a woman was not allowed to remain negative; that
either she must accomplish positive good or positive harm. So far, she
had accomplished only harm; and now here was an opportunity that was
almost an obligation to offset that to some degree. She must free
Monte as soon as possible. That was necessary in any event. She owed
it to him. It was a sacred obligation that she must pay to save even
the frayed remnant of her pride. This had nothing to do with Peter.
She saw now it would have been necessary just the same, even if Peter
had not come to make it clearer. Until she gave up the name to which
she had no right, with which she had so shamelessly trifled, she must
feel only glad that Peter could not see into her eyes.

So Monte would go on his way again, and she would be left--she and
Peter. If, then, wha