"My friendship--nothing more? I'm brutally blunt, I realize; but I can't let to-night, this last night, go by without knowing something of how you feel. You never have given me even so much as a hint, you know. I've waited patiently, I think, for you to select the moment for confidence; but you avoid it always; and to-morrow at this time--You know I love you, Elice. Knowing that, do you still wish me to go away pretending merely polite friendship? Do you wish it to be that way, Elice?" The girl ignored the question, ignored all except the dominant statement. "Yes, I know you love me," she echoed. "You told me so once before." "Once! A thousand times; you understood the language. It seems foolish even to reiterate the fact now. And yet you've never answered." "I know. I said it was unfair; and still--" "You won't answer even yet." "I can't. I'm drifting and waiting for light. Don't misunderstand; that isn't religion--I've not been to church in a year, or said a prayer. It isn't that at all. I simply don't want to hate myself, or be hated by another justly later." "And you expect to drift on until that light comes?" A halt, long enough for second thought or renewal of a decision. "I can't do otherwise. There's no other way. It's inevitable." "'Inevitable!'" Roberts shrugged impatiently. "I don't like the word. It belongs in the same class with 'chance' and 'predestination' and 'luck.' There are few things inevitable except death." "This is one--that I must wait." "And you can't even take me into your confidence, about the reason why? Mind, I don't ask it unless you voluntarily desire. I merely suggest." "No," steadily; "I can't tell you the reason. I've got to decide for myself--when light comes." Roberts' great shoulders squared significantly. "But if I know it already," he suggested evenly, "what then?" No answer, although the other waited half a minute. "I repeat: what if I know it already?" "Do you know?" Roberts' glance wandered into the shadow where the girl was, then returned slowly to the street and the red car. "I rode East with Steve Armstrong," he said, "as far as he went. I also wired him when I was coming, and we returned together. He told me, I think, everything--except about your father. He forgot that, if he knew. Do you doubt I know the reason, Elice?" Out of the shadow came the girl's face,--the face only. "You did this for Stephen Armstrong--after what is past! Why?" "Because life is short and I wanted to know several things before I came to-night. Would you like to hear what it was I wished to learn?" Again the face vanished. "Yes," said a voice.