at
you had gone away with someone--married, she thought.

"Joan--who was--Pat?"

For a moment Joan could not understand, then, as was the way with her,
the whole truth flooded in.

Raymond had taken thought for her--Elspeth had deceived him--oh! how
hard Elspeth could be. Joan recalled scenes behind closed doors when
Elspeth Gordon dealt with her assistants!

"And when you thought--I had--gone away--you felt free?" Joan's face
quivered. Raymond nodded. How easy it was to talk to Joan. How quick she
was to comprehend and help one over a hard stretch!

"Joan--who was Pat?" That seemed to be the vital thing now. And then
Joan told him. As she spoke in low, trembling tones, she saw his head
bow in his hands; she knew that he was suffering with her, for her; as
good men do for their women. Joan was conscious of this attitude of
Raymond's--she was reinstated; fixed, at last, where she could be
understood: she belonged to his world!

"Poor little girl! After the beast in me dashed your card house to atoms
you made another try--alone!" Raymond raised his face.

"No--I had Pat." At that instant Patricia symbolized the link between
the unreal and the real.

"Yes, for a little while--but, Joan, it didn't pay--the danger you ran
and all that--did it? Such girls as you cannot afford such experiences."

"Yes. Having had Pat, I am able to see--wider."

Joan was thinking of the girls whom Raymond could _not_ have understood
or sympathized with! Girls such as she might so easily have been
like--unless---- Unless what?

"Joan, you and I always said we could speak plain truth, didn't we?"
Kenneth's words brought her back.

"Of course!"

"Well," Raymond dropped his eyes and flushed, "you really didn't
care--not in the one, particular way, did you? It was only play; you
meant that?"

"It was only play, Ken. The suffering came because we did not know what
we were playing with. It's the not knowing that matters."

"Joan, you have seen the worst in me----?"

"Yes, and the best, Ken. It was like seeing you come back from
hell--unharmed."

"Do you think I should tell Nancy? Put her on her guard? There _is_
something in me----"

At this Joan leaned forward with a new light on her face--it was the
maternal taking shape.

"No, Ken, you must _not_ tell Nan. With her it is the _not_ knowing that
matters. She must be guarded; not put on guard. I know now that Nan will
be safe with you; I wasn't sure before; but if you raised