"Joyce!" he cried wildly. "_You_ are not going to desert me--now?" She dropped beside him and clasped her hands over his knee. There was no need of reserve, she knew that better than he. "Can you not see what sort of man you are?" she asked fiercely; while the tears fell thick and fast. "Oh! I love you many, many ways. I can tell you this now and you must not stop me. I love you for them who left you alone to suffer. I love you just for myself, and I love you as I would have loved my poor baby had God let me keep him. And that is the best way of all, for it holds all other loves. "Oh, you must see! You shall see! The men out in your world--could any of them have done what you have done--for me? Even Mr. Drew could not understand. Even _he_ thought you must have harmed me--he felt sorry for _me_! And knowing what _I_ know, do you, could any of those others, think I would let you harm--yourself? "You have made me a stronger woman than even you tried to make me, and I thank God for that--for you need me so very, very much!" The deep sobs choked her, and she buried her head against his arm. Out of a desolation her words were creating, Gaston spoke desperately. "I do need you, and by heaven, I mean to have you!" "You're right. I did not know what you meant to me; I know now, and since Fate has played us false, we'll--we'll turn our backs on her." "Joyce, are you willing to--trust me?" Almost roughly he raised her face and forced her to look at him. "I--trust you! You could never be anything but good and noble. I know that. You never have been--but, there are going to be other days and nights--just plain days and long black nights--and--I think we have almost forgotten--but there is always--Jude!" Then like a bewildering flash the words lightened the dark place of Gaston's character. This woman whom--he saw the fearful truth--this woman whom he had helped to form, had outgrown him and left him far behind! Now that she understood; now that her womanhood could stand alone, she rose pure and strong above his passion and the thing he called love. She only thought he had forgotten, when God knew he did not even care for the rough fellow who had all but strangled the life out of her. "Besides"--he heard her as from a distance--"besides, you must go back!" "Go back--good God! to what?" "To all that you had to go back to--when you turned to help me!" Then Gaston bent and raised the shrinking woman beside him. Face to face they stood in the cold, still room. "Joyce," he said thickly, "what I am going to say--you may never be able to forgive--but I must say it. "It is quite true, I gave no thought to what I was doing when I shielded you from Jude. St. Ange did not matter; there seemed no other way--and I never considered others coming to complicate things.