"And yet," he continued soberly, "love such as ours is not a light thing to be passed lightly by. To me, Nan Brent, you are sacred; to you, I yearn to be all things that--the--other man was not. I didn't realize until I entered unannounced and found you so desolate that I loved you. For two weeks you have been constantly in my thoughts, and I know now that, after all, you were my boyhood sweetheart." "I know you were mine," she agreed brokenly. "But that's just a little tender memory now, even if we said nothing about it then. We are children no longer, Donald dear; we must be strong and not surrender to our selfish love." "I do not regard it as selfish," he retorted soberly. "It seems most perfectly natural and inevitable. Why, Nan, I didn't even pay you the preliminary compliment of telling you I loved you or asking you if you reciprocated my affection. It appeared to me I didn't have to; that it was a sort of mutual understanding--for here we are. It seems it just was to be--like the law of gravitation." She smiled up at him, despite her mental pain. "I'm not so certain, dear," she answered, "that I'm not wicked enough to rejoice. It will make our renunciation all the easier--for me. I have known great sorrow, but to-night, for a little while, I have surrendered myself to great happiness, and nothing--nothing--can ever rob me of the last shred of that. You are my man, Donald. The knowledge that you love me is going to draw much of the sting out of existence. I know I cannot possess you, but I can resign myself to that and not be embittered." "Well," he answered dully, "I can give you up--because I have to; but I shall never be resigned about it, and I fear I may be embittered. Is there no hope, Nan?" "A faint one--some day, perhaps, if I outlive another." "I'll wait for that day, Nan. Meanwhile, I shall ask no questions. I love you enough to accept your love on faith, for, by God, you're a good woman!" Her eyes shown with a wonderful radiance as she drew his face down to hers and kissed him on the lips. "It's sweet of you to say that; I could love you for that alone, were there nothing else, Donald. But tell me, dear, did you receive my letter?" "Yes--and ignored it. That's why I'm here." "That was a risk you should not have taken." He looked thoughtfully at the multicolored flame of the driftwood fire. "Well, you see, Nan, it didn't occur to me that I was taking a risk; a confession of love was the last thing I would have thought would happen." "Then why did you disregard that letter that cost me such an effort to write?"