laughed harshly. "My voice is all right. Not so dashed cool as
yours. Read it!"

Spence took the sheet held out to him; but he had no wish to> read
Desire's words to John.

"If it is a private letter--" he began.

"Oh, don't be a bigger fool than you have been! Unless," with sudden
suspicion, "you've known all along? Perhaps you have. Even you could
hardly have been so completely duped."

"If you will tell me what you are talking about--"

"Read it. It is plain enough."

The professor slowly opened the folded sheet. It was a longer note than
the one she had left for him.

"Dear John," he read, "if I I'd known yesterday that I would leave so
soon I could have said good-bye. But my decision was made suddenly. I
think you must have seen how it is with Benis and Mary and I can't go
without telling you that I knew about it from the first. I don't want
you to blame Benis. He told me about it before we were married, and I
took the risk with my eyes open. How could he, or I, have guessed that
he had given up hope too soon?--and anyway, it wasn't in the bargain
that I should love him.--It just happened.--He is desperately unhappy.
Help him if you can.--Your affectionate Desire."

"My affectionate Desire!" mocked John, still in that high, strained
voice which now was perilously near a sob. "That--that is what I was to
her, a convenient friend! You--you had it all. And let it go, for the
sake of that blond-haired, deer-eyed, fashion plate--"

"That's enough! You are not an hysterical girl. Sit down.... I can't
understand this, John. I thought--"

The two men looked at each other, a long look in which distrust at
least was faced and ended. The excited flush, died out of John's cheek.
He looked weary and shame-faced.

"I thought she loved you," said Spence simply.

The doctor's eyes fell. It was his honest admission that he, too, had
thought this possible.

"Even now," went on the professor haltingly, "I can-not believe ...
it doesn't seem possible ... me? ... John, does the letter mean
that Desire loves me?"

John Rogers nodded, turning away.

Silence fell between them.

"What will you do--about the other?" asked the doctor presently.

"What other? There is no other. I loved Desire from the very first
night I saw her. I didn't know it, then. It was all new. And," with a
bitter smile, "so different from what one expects. Mary was never
any-thing but the figure of straw I told you of. I thought," naively,
"that