n who stood in
the shadow instead of in the sun.

"So would Corrie, I fancy," he said heavily.

Corrie's sister folded her hands in her lap.

"Is there no chance if one falls once?" she rebelled in futile reproach.
"He was so young, he has suffered so much--can he never pay?"

"I'm not much of a reader, as a rule, but I did a good deal of it at Val
de Rosas, this summer," Mr. Rose slowly returned. "And a line from an
Englishman's work stuck in my memory. He said that tears can wash out
guilt, but not shame. I can give Corrie all I've got, I have always been
fond of him and I am yet, but I can't give him my respect. It was a
shameful thing to strike down an unprepared man from behind, because he
was losing in a game. Some things can't be paid for, because they are
not bought and sold. Of course he will have every chance possible. He
isn't what I supposed; well, there is no use of complaining, we will
make the best of what he is. I sent him away while we settled down to
living on the new basis; I guess we are as ready to go on, now, as we
ever will be."

"If he heard you say that, I think he would die," she stated her
hopeless conviction.

"People don't die so easily, my girl. I tell you he and I will get along
well enough. Pass me those books over there."

Flavia obeyed, having no words. Mr. Rose sat down and compared the date
of the steamer's probable arrival with that of the Cup race.

XV

THE STRENGTH OF TEN

It had required more than eloquence or tact, it had required actual
compulsion to bring Corrie Rose back to race at Long Island. All his
successful work, all the cordiality that met him wherever he went, and
the temptation to essay new conquest, failed to overcome his repugnance.
But he could not defy Gerard.

"I don't see how _you_ can bear to look at the place," he had flung, in
his final defeat.

"My dear Corrie, I am not any further from that here than there," Gerard
had quietly replied.

Corrie understood, and submitted dumbly thereafter. And, in spite of
himself, his first day's practice on the course swept everything aside
except eager exhilaration. He was too superbly healthy for morbidity,
too masculine for continuous dwelling in memories; if Gerard had not
been very certain of that fact, he would never have brought his ward
there. When Corrie was driving, Corrie was happy. He drove with a sober
intensity of devotion, his passion was serious, whereas Gerard had raced
fire-ardent