“Mary,”--his hands on both her shoulders, his voice quavering a bit,--“I’m glad I’ve lived long enough to see the daughter of one old pal, and the niece of another old pal, definitely turn into this road. Yes, I’m mighty glad. It’s the only road that’s worth traveling--and I guess I ought to know. I know you’re going to be happy. God bless you, my dear!”... And now, as the pair moved easily through the closing twilight, all bars at last were down between these two--all barriers of pride, of reserve, of reticence, of opposing wills, all the long masking of hearts. Their souls were very close together. They had been riding for several miles in silence, both still awed by what had just taken place in the little town behind them--when Mary spoke softly:-- “You promised to tell me when--when this was over, what you and Commissioner Thorne were talking about this morning. Aren’t you going to tell me what it was?” “Commissioner Thorne again offered me the position of Chief of the Detective Bureau.” “And you?” “I turned it down.” “It was a wonderful chance!” she exclaimed. “You refused because of me?” “No. But I thought you might think so; that’s why I didn’t want to tell you until everything was settled between you and me. I had thought it all out before. It was a big job he offered me, yes,--but primarily it was an office job, a routine, administrative job. I wanted to be out where I would be in contact with people and their problems; where instead of touching life only through the reports of subordinates, I would touch life at first hand. I felt that in my case I could be of more service in such a way. You understand?” “Yes,” she said. “And I think, perhaps,--if you’d let me,--I could help at that kind of work.” “I know you could!” said Clifford. He went on, after a brief pause: “And we talked of something else, Mary,--the Chief and I. He told me again of that talk he had had with you when you went to him almost a year ago; and, Mary,”--his voice lowered,--“our talk became for me a searchlight thrown backward upon all that has happened these last few months, and especially a searchlight upon you, Mary. You may have had many motives for deciding against me, and for doing what you did. But I now know there was one big motive which I never before fully realized, and of which you perhaps were never conscious.” “And that?” she asked. “You did what you did partly because you loved me, and because you have loved me all along. You believed that for you to marry me would injure what you saw as a big public career for me; you thought you were not the right wife for me. As for Jack, you didn’t really care for him--and in the beginning you weren’t concerned in what your action might mean to him. But me--me you didn’t want to hurt in any way.” He repeated himself: “I see that clearly now--even though you did not know it, that was one of the motives that ruled you.”