Billy's contempt for Maggie at that moment was too deep for expression.

Disappointedly he began to replace the poor trash that Gaston evidently
prized--the last thing to put back was a photograph--and from sheer
disappointment Billy was about to vent his disgust by tearing this in
two, when the face riveted his attention. It was a face that once seen
could never be forgotten. Pale and sweet it looked up at him. It was
part of the clean, better life that he was trying to lead. It made him,
all in the flash of an eye, see what a mean, low scamp he was to--

The outer door of the shack opened and shut! Hurrying feet ran across
the floor of the living room, the lean-to door was flung back, and, all
palpitating and wide-eyed, Joyce confronted the boy.

"You--Billy!" The glorious light died out of the big eyes, the pale,
expectant face set into lines of hopeless disappointment. "I thought--"
the mouth quivered pitifully, and Billy felt the added sting of
discovered shame.

In a moment things steadied themselves, Joyce was mistress of the
situation.

"What have you there?" she asked sharply. In the distraction she had not
noticed that the chest was open.

"Her picture!"

"Her! Who?" Joyce came over to Billy, and looked at the face he held at
arm's length.

Something numbed every sense but sight. That sense must convey the image
of the girl-face to Joyce's brain, and implant it there so effectually
that it could never be forgotten. And that very morning Joyce had seen
its counterpart on the highway!

"Who--is--that?" she demanded.

"It's her up to the bungalow. They call her--Ruth. See! here it is writ
on the back--'Ruth'; her other name is Mis' Dale."

The face was burned in now for all time; and the other faculties began
to throb into life.

"Billy, where did you get that?"

Then both boy and woman looked at the desecrated chest--and all was
told.

Even while she was wildly pushing facts from her, Joyce saw, rising
before her, a completed structure of John Gaston's past.

That exquisite girl was she who had held his love before--and she had
married the brother! Then Gaston's name was Dale. Oh! how vividly,
hideously clear it was. It seemed as if she had always known it. Even
the pictured face was as familiar now as Gaston's own. But Joyce's cold
lips were forming the words:

"Billy you lie! You brought that over to show me. Tell me the truth."
She had him by the shoulder, and her fierce eyes frightened