n't understand at all. I thought
that it sounded fine, and that was why I applauded. I am only beginning
to understand now. Even after I had agreed with you, my one ambition was
to be different."

Her voice died remorsefully away. From the window further down the
terrace the yellow light poured from the windows and fought with the
moonlight. The music of a waltz floated out upon the yearning of many
violins. There was a ripple of distant voices.

"All this week," Joan began again, "I have found myself standing
unexpectedly in a strong light before a mirror and utterly scared by the
revelation of what I was ... by the memory of the foolish things which I
had done. From one of the worst of them, you have saved me to-night. You
are very kind to me, Martin."

It was the first time he had ever heard her use his Christian name.

"I should like to be kinder, if you'll let me," he said. "I am not
blind. I was in the supper-room when you and Harry were there. It was
for him that you had kept all the last dances free. And you are here,
breaking your heart. Why?"

Joan shook her head. A little sob broke from her against her will. But
this matter was between her and Harry Luttrell. She sought no counsel
from any other.

"Then I am very grieved for both of you," said Hillyard. Joan made a
movement as if she were about to rise. "Will you wait just a moment?"
Martin asked.

He guessed that some hint of Stella Croyle's story had reached the
girl's ears. He understood that she would be hurt, and affronted; that
she would feel herself suddenly steeped in vulgarities; and that she
would visit her resentment sharply upon her lover, and upon herself at
the same time. And all this was true. But Martin was not sure of it. He
meant to tread warily, lest if he stumbled, the harm should be the more
complete.

"I have known Harry Luttrell a long while," he said. "No woman ever
reached his heart until he came home from France this summer. No woman I
believe, could have reached it--not even you, Joan, I believe, if you
had met him a year ago. He was possessed by one great shame and one
great longing--shame that the regiment with which he and his father were
bound up, had once disgraced itself--longing for the day to come when it
would recover its prestige. Those two emotions burnt in him like white
flames. I believe no other could have lived beside them."

Joan would not speak, but she concentrated all her senses to listen. A
phrase whi