t the bent form near her and then went to a chair and
leaned her head back. She knew the feeling of desperate exhaustion. She
had never fainted, was not going to faint now, but she had come to the
end of a dangerous stretch of road and there was no strength left in
her. Surprise, shock, the storm--all had combined to bring her to where
she was now. The tears rolled unheeded down her cheeks; all her hope and
faith were gone--she had left them in the struggle and could not even
estimate her loss.

The clock ticked away the minutes--who was there to notice or care? Joan
was thankful to have nothing happen! She closed her eyes and waited.

Presently Raymond spoke. His hands dropped from his haggard face and his
eyes were filled with shame and remorse.

"Will you listen to me?" he said.

"Yes." Joan looked at him--her eyes widened; she tried to smile. She
longed to cry out at what she saw, wanted to say: "You have come back.
Come back." Instead she said slowly:

"Yes."

"I can never expect to have your forgiveness. I thank God that it is
possible for us to part and, alone, seek to forget this horror. I will
never intrude. I promise you that. Back in my college days I found out
that I could not drink. It did something to me that it does not do to
others. I never quite knew what until to-day. When I saw you standing
there--the devil got loose. I know now. My God! To think that all one's
life does not count when the devil takes hold."

"Oh! Yes, it does, and it is the knowing that will help." Joan was
crying softly. "You will have the right to trust yourself hereafter
because you know."

"I will always think of women as I see you now." Raymond spoke
reverently.

"You must not. Some women do not have to learn--I did. I think the best
women know."

"You must not say that."

"Yes, I feel it. Had I shown you a better self while we played all would
have been different. You would not have misunderstood. Women must not
expect what they are not willing to give. I had done things that no girl
can safely do and be understood and then--when you lost control--you
thought of me as you really believed me. I can see it all now, see how I
hurt you; hurt myself and hurt other girls; but it was because--not
because I am a bad girl--but because I did not know myself any more than
you knew yourself. How could we hope to know each other? I seem so old,
now--so old! And I understand--at last."

Raymond looked at her and pity filled h