He turned to seek the road, saying to himself, "What, then, shall I do?" The wish was still strong within him to make Delafield suffer punishment for his misdeeds, to make him atone by his own suffering for all that Conrad himself had suffered. There was still the law. "Homer said he would help me if I wanted to go at it that way," thought Curtis. That recollection helped his self-justification for a moment, then his thoughts went on: "But of course he wouldn't do anything of the sort now; and he wouldn't want me to, either." It occurred to him that such a course as that would bring to Lucy as much pain as would her father's death. She was so proud of him and believed in him so thoroughly. "It would break her heart if she knew all this about his past," he decided. Homer, too, how deeply hurt he would be to have Lucy's father disgraced and Lucy herself made utterly wretched! "The lad would never forgive me," he muttered. Presently he was telling himself that Lucy must never be made to suffer the shame and unhappiness of such a disclosure. Nor should Homer ever know the truth about Delafield's identity. He must be able to love and respect his wife's father. With a loving smile Conrad recalled some of Lucy's indignant remarks about Baxter's dealings with the Mexicans of the Rio Grande valley, and saw again her winsome look as she tossed her curly head and her brown eyes sparkled. Then quickly came the self-questioning: What would she think of him if she knew the purpose that had been animating him all his life? Whether it was her father he had tracked or another, how horrified she would be if she knew she had made such a man her friend! He blushed crimson, and pricked the mare to a faster pace. The old longing for revenge, the old belief in the rightfulness of his course, the old sense of satisfaction in his purpose--it was all dying hard, but he had come to where he could see it as it looked to others. He began to feel ashamed. Still, it was difficult to give up the feeling that Delafield should be made to suffer some sort of retaliation for the wrongs he had inflicted upon others. Conrad pondered it as he rode aimlessly about, still smarting under the thought of Bancroft's deception during the last few months. He might go to the banker and have it all out by word of mouth. But as he considered that course with cool mind he reached a pretty firm conviction that shots from one or the other, or both, would end the interview. Bancroft was not likely to submit tamely to insult from him. And much shame and sorrow for Lucy and Homer would result. He did not want them to suffer. His head lifted and his lips tightened. "I'll give up the whole thing before I'll let it cloud their happiness," he said aloud. Then he fell to thinking why Bancroft had tried to strike him down secretly.