"Lynda, I cannot talk to you about this. When you are older--when life has done its best or its worst for you--you will understand better than you do to-day; but remember this: what you have told me has cut deep, but it has cut, by one stroke, the hardness and bitterness from my heart. Remember this!" Then with a sudden reversion to his customary manner he said: "And now tell me about Morrell." Lynda started; the situation puzzled her. She had meant to comfort--instead she seemed to have hurt and confused her old friend. "About John Morrell?" she murmured with a rising perplexity; "there isn't much to tell." "I thought it was a long story, Lynda." "Somehow it doesn't seem long when you get close to it. But surely you must see, Uncle William, that after--after father and mother--I would naturally be a bit keener than most girls. It would never do for me to marry the wrong man and, of course, a girl never really knows until--she faces the situation at close quarters. I should never have engaged myself to John Morrell--that was the real mistake; and it was only when he felt sure of me--that I knew! Uncle William, I must have my own life, and John--well, he meant to have his own and mine, too. I couldn't stand it! I have struggled up and conquered little heights just as he has--just as Con and Brace have; we've all scrambled up together. It didn't seem quite fair that they should--well, fly their colours from their peaks and that I should" (here Lynda laughed) "cuddle under John's standard. I don't always believe in his standard; I don't approve of it. Much as I like men, I don't think they are qualified to arrange, sort, fix, and command the lives of women. If a woman thinks the abdication justifies the gains, that's all right. If I had sold myself, honourably, to John Morrell I would have kept to the agreement; I hate and loathe women who don't! I'm not belittling the romance and sentiment, Uncle William, but when all's told the usual marriage is a bargain and half the women whine about holding to it--the others play up and, if there is love enough, it pans out pretty well--but I couldn't! You see I had lived with father and mother--felt the lack between them--and I saw mother's eyes when she--let go and died! No! I mean to have my own life!" "And you are going to forego a woman's heritage--home and children--for such a whim? Your mother had recompenses; are you not afraid of the--future?" "Not if I respect it and do not dishonour the present." "A lonely man or woman--an outcast from the ordinary--is a creature of hell!" Lynda shook her head. "Go on!" Truedale commanded sternly. "Morrell is a good fellow. From my prison I took care to find that out. Brace did me practical service when he acted as sleuth before your engagement!" Lynda coloured and frowned. "I did not know about that," was all she said. "It doesn't matter--only I'm glad I can feel sorry for him and angry at you. I never knew you could be a fool, Lynda."