"Oh, it's simple enough," Billy assured her. "You see, she--well, I think she would have married me once. Yes, she cared for me once. And I quarreled with her--I, conceited young ass that I was, actually presumed to dictate to the dearest, sweetest, most lovable woman on earth, and tell her what she must do and what she mustn't. I!--good Lord, I, who wasn't worthy to sweep a crossing clean for her!--who wasn't worthy to breathe the same air with her!--who wasn't worthy to exist in the same world she honoured by living in! Oh, I _was_ an ass! But I've paid for it!--oh, yes, Kathleen, I've paid dearly for it, and I'll pay more dearly yet before I've done. I tried to avoid her yesterday--you must have seen that. And I couldn't--I give you my word, I could no more have kept away from her than I could have spread a pair of wings and flown away. She doesn't care a bit for me now; but I can no more give up loving her than I can give up eating my dinner. That isn't a pretty simile, Kathleen, but it expresses the way I feel toward her. It isn't merely that I want her; it's more than that--oh, far more than that. I simply can't do without her. Don't you understand, Kathleen?" he asked, desperately. "Yes--I think I understand," she said, when he had ended. "I--oh, Billy, I am almost sorry. It's dear of you--dear of you, Billy, to care for me still, but--but I'm almost sorry you care so much. I'm not worth it, boy dear. And I--I really don't know what to say. You must let me think." Mr. Woods gave an inarticulate sound. The face she turned to him was perplexed, half-sad, fond, a little pleased, and strangely compassionate. It was Kathleen Eppes who sat beside him; the six years were as utterly forgotten as the name of Magdalen's first lover. She was a girl again, listening--with a heart that fluttered, I dare say--to the wild talk, the mad dithyrambics of a big, blundering boy. The ludicrous horror of it stunned Mr. Woods. He could no more have told her of her mistake than he could have struck her in the face. "Kathleen--!" said he, vaguely. "Let me think!--ah, let me think, Billy!" she pleaded, in a flutter of joy and amazement. "Go away, boy dear!--Go away for a little and let me think! I'm not an emotional woman, but I'm on the verge of hysterics now, for--for several reasons. Go in to breakfast, Billy! I--I want to be alone. You've made me very proud and--and sorry, I think, and glad, and--and--oh, I don't know, boy dear. But please go now--please!" Billy went. In the living-hall he paused to inspect a picture with peculiar interest. Since Kathleen cared for him (he thought, rather forlornly), he must perjure himself in as plausible a manner as might be possible; please God, having done what he had done, he would lie to her like a gentleman and try to make her happy. A vision in incredible violet ruffles, coming down to breakfast, saw him, and paused on the stairway, and flushed and laughed deliciously.