rdly grasped the meaning of
the words. Then, without speaking, she covered her face with her
hands. The room seemed to be full of silence--a heavy terrible
silence, charged with calamity. At last, unable to endure the burden
of the intense quiet any longer, Kitty stirred restlessly. The tiny
noise of her movement sounded almost like a pistol-shot in that
profound stillness. Nan's hands dropped from her face and she picked
up the letter which still lay on the bed and tore it into small pieces,
very carefully, tossing them into the waste-paper basket.

Kitty watched her for a moment as though fascinated. Then suddenly she
spoke.

"Why are you doing that? Why are you doing that?" she demanded
irritably.

Nan looked across at her with steady eyes.

"Because--it's finished! That letter will never be needed now."

"It will! Of course it will!" insisted Kitty. "Not now--but
later--when Roger's got over the shock of the accident."

Nan smiled at her curiously.

"Roger will never get over the consequences of his accident," she said,
accenting the word "consequences." "Can you imagine what it's going to
mean to him to be tied down to a couch for the rest of his days? An
outdoor man, like Roger, who has hunted and shot and fished all his
life?"

"Of course I can imagine! It's all too dreadful to think of! . . .
But now Peter's free, you can't--you can't mean to give him up for
Roger!"

"I must," answered Nan quietly. "I can't take the last thing he values
from a man who's lost nearly everything."

Kitty grasped her by the arm.

"Do you mean," she said incredulously, "do you mean you're going to
sacrifice Peter to Roger?"

"It won't hurt Peter--now--as it would have done before." Nan spoke
rather tonelessly. "He's already lost his faith and trust in me. The
worst wrench for him is over. I--I think"--a little unevenly--"that
I'm glad now he thought what he did--that he couldn't find it in his
heart to forgive me. It'll make it easier for him."

"Easier? Yes, if you actually do what you say you will. But--you're
deliberately taking away his happiness, robbing him of it, even though
he doesn't know he's being robbed. Good heavens, Nan!"--harshly--"Did
you ever love him?"

"I don't think you want an answer to that question," returned Nan
gently. "But, you see, I can't--divide myself--between Peter and
Roger."

"Of course you can't! Only why sacrifice both yourself and Peter to
Roger? It is