During this explanation, Ruth, recovered from the first shock of his words, was thinking rapidly. All her fears and superstitions came back one hundred fold in the light of Terry’s revelation. They gave reason and purpose to what she had seen and what she had suspected. She debated in her mind whether she dare tell everything to Terry. “But evidently you had something else in mind—some other reason,” he continued. “What was it?” She looked at his grey blue eyes and brown hair, his clear, fair skin and firm chin—he was Western of the West—he would never understand or believe. “Nothing,” she answered. “I suppose it’s just that I sensed what you have said, without ever daring to put it into words even in my own thoughts. Couldn’t you try and tempt George back on to the stage?” “I don’t know—I couldn’t, because he doesn’t like me, but I might get some one else to do it, that is if he hasn’t forgotten all his old tricks. Eleven years is a long time, you know.” “Oh, he hasn’t—” but she decided not to finish her sentence. The restaurant was almost deserted now, and Terry bethought himself, with many apologies, of his resolve not to keep Ruth out too late. He would have hurried into another cab, but Ruth protested that it was such a short distance and she wanted to walk. In reality she thought that in the darkness when she could not see his face so clearly she might find the courage to tell him. Yet she walked silent by his side, unable to speak. She was lost in the wonder of being alone with him—he was so tall and wonderful. She looked up at the stars and gratitude filled her heart. It was good to love, even when love was unreciprocated. She pitied women who had never loved, as she did, unselfishly—a love more like adoration than earthly passion. She wanted to help Terry and Gloria. She would rejoice in their marriage. If she could only solve their problems, she would not care what life held for her after that. It was an exalted mood for a girl of nineteen years, some months and days, and Terry, all unsuspecting, broke into it with words: “I wish we could arrange to have Gloria and Professor Pendragon meet again,” he said. “Pendragon was the big love of her life, and no man ever having once loved Gloria could possibly be quite free of her sway. She made the other marriages just for excitement, I think. I can’t imagine any other reason. I’d like to have them meet again. It would be interesting to say the least. I’m horribly unmodern, but I believe that men and women love once and once only.” It seemed to Ruth that there was a note of sad resignation and generous resolve in his voice. “But I’ve promised Gloria that I will not let him know anything about her. It’s very generous of you to want to—to bring them together.” For a moment Terry did not speak. He seemed to be considering her words and looked at her in a curious way that she did not understand.