d him to the Holy Grail. He would have had to go such a little
way--only as far as her outstretched arms.

She shrank back from the window, her head bowed. It had been her
privilege as a woman to be wiser than he. She should have known!
Now--the thought wrenched like a physical pain--there was nothing left
to her but renunciation. She must help him to be free. She must force
him free. She owed that to him and to herself. It was only so that
she might ever feel clean again.

Moaning his name, she flung herself upon the bed. So she lay until
summoned back to life by Marie, who brought her the card of Miss
Beatrice Noyes.

Marjory took the time to bathe her dry cheeks in hot water and to do
over her hair before admitting the girl; but, even with those
precautions, Beatrice paused at the entrance as if startled by her
appearance.

"Perhaps you do not feel like seeing any one to-night," she suggested.

"I do want to see you," answered Marjory. "I want to hear about Peter.
But my head--would you mind if we sat in the dark?"

"I think that would be better--if we are to talk about Peter."

The phrase puzzled Marjory, but she turned out the lights and placed
two chairs near the open windows.

"Now tell me from the beginning," she requested.

"The beginning came soon after you went away," replied Beatrice in a
low voice.

Marjory leaned back wearily. If there were to be more complications
for which she must hold herself accountable, she felt that she could
not listen. Surely she had lived through enough for one day.

"Peter cared a great deal for you," Beatrice faltered on.

"Why?"

It was a cry in the night.

Impulsively the younger girl leaned forward and fumbled for her hands.

"You did n't realize it?" she asked hopefully.

"I realized nothing then. I realized nothing yesterday," cried
Marjory. "It is only to-day that I began to realize anything."

"To-day?"

"Only to-night."

"It was the sight of Peter looking so unlike himself that opened your
heart," nodded Beatrice.

"Not my heart--just my eyes," returned Marjory.

"Your heart too," insisted Beatrice; "for it's only through your heart
that you can open Peter's eyes."

"I--I don't understand."

"Because he loves you," breathed Beatrice.

[Illustration: "Because he loves you," breathed Beatrice.]

"No. No--not that."

"You don't know how much," went on the girl excitedly. "None of us
knew how much--until after you went. Oh,