t it was entirely gone, and could never
return; but she felt that she ought to atone in some way because it had
once existed. She took his arm again, of her own accord, and leaned
on it with a touch that expressed what she dimly meant to
express--confidence in him.

They went down the flight of steps at the end of the Casino, and so to
the terrace, which was completely deserted, as Mary had hoped it would
be. Here, away from the golden lights of hotel and cafe windows, the
moon had full power, a round white moon that flooded the night with
silver.

They turned to walk along the terrace-front of the Casino, facing toward
Italy, and away from the harbour half girdled by the Rock of Hercules.
They could not see the yacht, but the great illuminated shape rode in
Mary's thoughts as it rode on the water. She knew that in coming back
along this way she would have to see the harbour, and _White Lady_
blazing with light, pulsing with music. Just yet she could not bear
that, and when they came near the eastern end of the terrace she said
that she would sit down on one of the seats.

The moonlight had seemed exquisite as an angel's blessing when she
looked out between the flags and rose branches, drinking in the words "I
love you," as a flower drinks in dew. Now the pale radiance on the
mountains was to Mary's eyes wicked, wicked as a white witch fallen
from her broomstick. All the world was wicked in its weary pallor; and
the dark windows of far-off, moon-bleached villas were like staring
eyeballs in gigantic skulls.

She had not meant to talk, but suddenly the fire within her flamed into
words. "What have I done--what do I do--that could make people think I
am--not good?--make them think they have a right to insult me?"

"Nobody has a right to think that," Hannaford answered, quietly as
always. "If any man has insulted you, tell me, and I'll make him sorry."

"I--there is nothing to tell," she stammered, frightened back into
reticence. "It's only--an idea that came into my head because
of--something I can't explain. But, oh, do be honest with me, Captain
Hannaford, if you are my friend, for I can never ask any one else, and I
can never ask you again. It's just asking _itself_ now, this question,
for I want an answer so much. Is there anything very different about me,
and the way I behave, from other girls or women--those who try to be
good and nice, I mean?"

It was a strange appeal, and went to the man's heart. If Mary