You desert your home; I throw up useful teaching, risk every hope in your career. A swift frown brought the still dark brows together for a moment. I can’t explain—” They regarded one another, each blinded to the other. She made lumpish and inadequate interruptions rather than replies. “Is it your maid?” he asked. “Miss Pellissier, isn’t it?” he said. Any one less courageous than himself would have abandoned the attempt from a conviction of its utter hopelessness; but, though it might for a moment damp his ardour, it could not deter him. She wished that the drive would never end, but it was only three miles after all. She was not a Christian woman. Oh, to face facts! Gods! what a world it might be if people faced facts! Understanding! Understanding! There is no other salvation.
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