ng?

"If--if you have, and if you are, all that you say, why do you question
me so?" Drew asked. He was feeling his way blindly through this new
moral, or unmoral, thicket.

"Because sometimes a queer thought comes to me. I know it is because
these people can not understand; but _you_ can, and when you have told
me it is all right--I shall never have the thought again."

"What _is_ the thought, Joyce?"

"You see," she almost touched him now in her intensity, "I do not know
anything about Mr. Gaston--really. About what he was, what his life was
before he came here. I would not hurt him for anything God could give to
me--and sometimes I have wondered if--if in that life that was; the
life that _might_ come again to him, you know,--for for he is _so_
different from any one here--I wonder if what he has done for me, could
hurt him? Could anything that is so heavenly good for me--hurt
him?--tell me, tell me!"

And now Drew dropped his eyes and sent a swift prayer to God for
forgiveness.

He had thought her without conscience, without soul. He felt himself in
a dim valley, and he hardly dared to raise his eyes to her.

"I am perfectly happy." The words quivered to him, and belied
themselves. "And he says he--is--but would he be if he were back
there--where he came from? In my getting of _my_ life, am I taking from
_his_?"

"Good God!"

"You--you do not understand, either?"

"Yes; I do, Joyce--I understand. I understand."

"Am I hurting him?"

"He must answer that, Joyce, no one else can. He must face that some
day, and also whether he is hurting you or not. We cannot any of us
choose a little sunny spot in life for ourselves and shut out the past
and future by a high wall. The present faces both ways, Joyce, and light
is let in from all sides. Light and blackest gloom, God help us!

"What Gaston's other life was--he alone knows--he ought to tell you if
he hopes to help you really. If he's the good man he seems to you,
Joyce, he _will_ tell you, and give you a chance to play the game."
Suddenly an inspiration came to Drew. "Tell him," he said slowly, "that
I have friends coming here--friends who will probably build summer homes
and introduce a new life. It's none of my business, perhaps, but you've
come to me for help--and as God shows me, I must help you. Gaston has no
right to injure your future by playing a game with you that you in no
wise understand. It isn't fair--and he knows it, if he stops to think.