didn't mean to love you, mavourneen. It was like the tale of
Killarney. I left a cover off in my heart and a spring gushed out and
flooded my life."

"I am blaming myself!"

"You must not do that. You were in love with love. You must now know
how different it--" But he could not say it, courageous as he felt.

"And the money!" choked Joan. "Oh, Kenny, Kenny, the ragged money!
And I gave it away. And you were so good--so good!"

He frowned, unable to understand at once the relevance of the ragged
money and realized that Joan was sobbing into his shoulder the tale of
an eavesdropping bartender and a doctor. He accepted it, dazedly,
thunderstruck at the alertness of his Nemesis who missed no single
chance to shoot an arrow.

"And Don must give that money back. I will tell him--"

"No," said Kenny. "No, he must not."

She stared at him in wonder.

"Mavourneen," he pleaded wistfully, "may I--not do that at least for
someone who is yours? Don needs it."

He could not know that his kindness was to her more poignant torment
than his bitterest reproach. He thought as the color fled from her
lips and left her gray and trembling, that she was fainting. He held
her closely in his arms.

She slipped away from him and sat down weakly in a chair. Dusk lay
beyond the windows. Joan covered her face with her hands.

"The Gray Man," she whispered. "He's peeping in."

Pain flared intolerably in Kenny's throat and stabbed into his heart.
He drew the shades with a shudder and lighted the lamp.

In the supreme moment of his agony, came inspiration. He must save
them all with a lie! Queer that, queer and contradictory! Yes, after
practicing the truth, he must save them all from shipwreck with a lie.

"Girleen," he said, "there is something now that I must tell you. I
thought never to say it. You came into my dream that day beneath the
willow in gold brocade, with afterglow behind you and an ancient boat.
I am an Irishman--and a painter. 'Twas a spot of rare enchantment and
I said to myself, I am falling in love--again."

"Again!" echoed Joan a little blankly.

"Again!" said Kenny inexorably. "You see, Joan, dear, I was used to
falling in love. There are men like that. You and Brian would never
understand."

"No," said the girl, shocked. "No."

"You made a mistake, the sort of mistake that drives half the lifeboats
on the rocks. I mean, dear, falling in love with love. But you're
over that. It