"Con, dear, unless you wish it otherwise, I want, as far as possible, to begin from to-day and find out just how much we do mean to each other. Let us push open the doors ahead until we make sure we both want the same abiding place. Should you find a spot better, safer for you than this that we thought we knew, I will never hold you by a look or word, dear." "And you--Lyn?" Truedale's voice shook. "For myself I ask the same privilege." "You mean that we--live together, yet apart?" "Unless you will it otherwise, dear. In that case, we will close this door and say--good-bye, now." Her strength, her tenderness, unmanned Truedale. Again he felt that call upon him which she had inspired the night of his confession. Again he rallied to defend her--from her own pitiless sense of honour. "By heaven!" he cried. "It shall not be good-bye. I will accept your terms, live up to them, and dare the future." "Good, old Con! And now, please, dear, go. I think--I think I am going to cry--a little and"--she looked up quiveringly--"I mustn't have red eyes at dinner time. Brace and Betty are coming. Thank heaven, Con, Betty will make us laugh." CHAPTER XVIII Having agreed upon this period of probation both Lynda and Truedale entered upon it with characteristic determination. There were times when Conning dejectedly believed that no woman could act as Lynda was doing, if she loved a man. No, it was not in woman's power to forego all Lynda was foregoing if she loved deeply. Not that Lynda could be said to be cold or indifferent; she had never been sweeter, truer; but she was so amazingly serene! Perhaps she was content, having secured his rights for him, to go on and be thankful that so little was actually exacted from her. But such reasoning eventually shamed Truedale, and he acknowledged that there was something superb in a woman who, while still loving a man, was able to withhold herself from him until both he and she had sounded the depths of their natures. In this state of mind Truedale devoted himself to business, and Lynda, with a fresh power that surprised even herself, resumed her own tasks. "And this is _love_," she often thought to herself, "it is the real thing. Some women think they have love when _love has them_. This beautiful, tangible something that is making even these days sacred has proved itself. I can rely upon it--lean heavily upon it." Sometimes she wondered what she was waiting for. Often she feared, in her sad moments, that it might last forever--be accepted this poor counterfeit for the real--and the full glory escape her and Truedale. But at her best she knew what she was waiting for--what was coming. It was something that, driving all else away, would carry her and Conning together without reservations or doubts. They would _know!_ He would know the master passion of his life; she, that she could count all lost unless she made his life complete and so crown her own.