"I dare say we all can, if we put our minds to it--sometimes without. Well! that's the whole story, Uncle William." "It's only the preface. See here, Lynda, did it ever strike you that a woman like you doesn't come to such a conclusion as you have without an experience--a contrast to go by?" "I--I do not know what you mean, Uncle William." "I think you do. I have no right to probe, but I have a right to--to help you if I can. You've done much for your mother; can you deny me the--the honour of doing something for her?" "There's nothing--to do." "Let us see! You're just a plain girl when all's said and done. You've got a little more backbone and wit than some, but your heart's in the same place as other women's and you're no different in the main. You want the sane, right things just as they do--home, children, and security from the things women dread. A man can give a woman a chance for her best development; she ought to recognize that and--yes--appreciate it." "Surely!" this came very softly from the lips screened now by two cold shivering hands. "A woman does recognize it; she appreciates it, but that does not exclude her from--choice." "One man--of course within limits and reason--is as good as another when he loves a woman and makes her love him. You certainly thought you loved Morrell. You had nothing to gain unless you did. You probably earned as much as he." "That's true. All quite true." "Then something happened!" Truedale flung his half-smoked cigar in the fire. "What was it, Lynda?" "There--was nothing--really--" "There was something. There was--Con!" "Oh! how--how can you?" Lynda started back. She meant to say "How dare you?"--but the drawn and tortured face restrained her. "Because I must, Lynda. Because I must. You know I told you I had a story? You must bear with me and listen. Sit down again and try to remember--I am doing this for your mother! I repeat--there was Con. At first you took up arms for him as Brace did; your sex instincts were not awakened. You were all good fellows together until you drifted, blindfolded, into the trap poor Morrell set for you. You thought I was ill-treating Con--disregarding his best interests--starving his soul! Oh! you poor little ignoramus; the boy never had a soul worth mentioning until it got awakened, in self-defense, and grew its own limit. What did you and Brace know of the past--the past that went into Con's making? You were free enough with your young condemnation and misplaced loyalty--but how about justice?" Lynda's eyes were fixed upon Truedale's face. She had never seen him in this mood and, while he fascinated, he overawed her.