oment she was once more his for the
taking. He need only have extended his arms and said, "Come!" and she
would have responded instantly and gladly. She was receptive, stirred,
but one thing her pride still inhibited. She could not make the
advances.

Boone let his moment pass; let it pass unrecognized with the blindness
of life's perverse coincidence. At that precise instant, a mood was upon
him which was no intrinsic reflection of his own spirit, but rather the
reflection of all the stormy transitions of the night.

She had seen him at a crisis when he had been on the verge of collapse
like a bridge whose centre rests upon a span of flawed steel. True, he
had not actually collapsed, but, save for her intervention, he would
have done so. Now his mortification withered him and perversely
expressed itself in resentment against her--for having witnessed his
shame.

He owed her everything--so much that his self-respect was
bankrupted--and if he could have hated her, he would have hated her just
then. He even fancied that he did. He saw in her a cold, impersonal
deity, consciously superior to himself and secretly triumphant over his
weakness. So he not only let the moment pass, but he rebuffed its
unspoken invitation.

"I owe you everything," he said with the cold ungraciousness of a
grudging confession. "If you hadn't come, I'd have had a hell in my
conscience tomorrow. I'd have been a murderer. I even tried to force you
to admit that it was for me, myself, that you cared enough to do it. I'm
ashamed of that.... It won't happen again." He paused and his voice was
bitterly edged when he went on. "I begged for the chance to explain
things--when there was still time. You refused to hear me. Now I
wouldn't explain if _you_ begged _me_ to--That's over, but I acknowledge
the debt I owe you--for tonight. It's a heavier debt than any man can
stand in and keep his self-respect."

* * * * *

Morgan and Anne had been to the theatre, and when they came back to the
house the lawyer had drawn from his pocket a small package, and while
Anne opened it he looked on. It was an engagement ring, and quite worthy
of his connoisseur's selection. But when he put out his hand to take
hers, she drew it back and spoke impulsively:

"Before you put that on--Morgan--there's something I must tell you."

He smiled his acquiescence and waited with the emerald set emblem in his
fingers, while, in the manner of one