"But he should have remembered," the harsh voice revealed more than he
knew. "He could have given his child all that life holds that men call
happiness. How could even a lad forget! He loved you--you loved him. If
he had married you--"

He stopped in the midst of the words. The little starved face stared at
him with a kind of awfulness of woe. She spoke as if she scarcely knew
the words she uttered, and not, he saw, in the least as if she were
defending herself--or as if she cared whether he believed her or not--or
as if it mattered.

"Did you--think we were--not married?" the words dragged out.

Something turned over in his side. He had heard it said that hearts did
such things. It turned--because she did not care. She knew what love and
death were--what they _were_--not merely what they were called--and life
and shame and loss meant nothing.

"Do you know what you are saying?" he heard the harshness of his voice
break. "For God's sake, child, let me hear the truth."

She did not even care then and only put her childish elbows on her knees
and her face in her hands and wept and wept.

"There was--no time," she said. "Every day he said it. He knew--he
_knew_. Before he was killed he wanted _something_ that was his own. It
was our secret. I wanted to keep it his secret till I died."

"Where," he spoke low and tensely, "were you married?"

"I do not know. It was a little house in a poor crowded street. Donal
took me. Suddenly we were frightened because we thought he was to go
away in three days. A young chaplain who was going away too was his
friend. He had just been married himself. He did it because he was sorry
for us. There was no time. His wife lent me a ring. They were young too
and they were sorry."

"What was the man's name?"

"I can't remember. I was trembling all the time. I knew nothing. That
was like a dream too. It was all a dream."

"You do not remember?" he persisted. "You were married--and have no
proof."

"We came away so quickly. Donal held me in his arm in the cab because I
trembled. Donal knew. Donal knew everything."

He was a man who had lived through tragedy but that had been long ago.
Since then he had only known the things of the world. He had seen
struggles and tricks and paltry craftiness. He had known of women caught
in traps of folly and passion and weakness and had learned how terror
taught them to lie and shift and even show abnormal cleverness. Above
all he knew exactly wh