e mistakes, it's better to abide
by them courageously than defy--well, the accepted laws.

"Perhaps you ought not go back to your husband; I would not dare decide
that; Ralph Drew would know, but this I know, you should not stay here.
I will befriend you, Joyce, in whatever other course you choose. Please
let me help you; it would help me."

She stretched her pretty, pleading hands across the table, and her eyes
were full of tears. She felt old, and worldly-wise beside this mountain
girl, and she was adrift on the alluring sea of personal service.

Joyce took no heed of the waiting hands, the inspired face held her.

"Don't you see, Joyce, even if this is love that controls you, you would
not want it to be selfish?"

"No. Oh! No."

"What do you know of this man Gaston, really? Mr. Drew says he is quite
different from the people hereabout. You do not even know the true man,
his name, nor antecedents. The time may come when he will return to his
former life, whatever it was; can you not see how you would--interfere
with such a plan? If he left you--what would he leave you to? And if he
were one of a thousand and took you with him--what then? In either case
it would mean your unhappiness and his--shame."

Joyce winced, and Ruth Dale saw the hands clutch the arms of the chair.
She felt that she was making an impression, and her ardour grew.

"I do not know Gaston," she went on, "but I do know the world; and for
women placed as you are, Joyce, there is no alternative. Your very love
should urge you to accept the situation, hard as it may seem."

"It does." For a moment the lovely head drooped and the white lids
quivered over the pain-filled eyes.

"No matter how--good a man--this Mr. Gaston has been to you--he knew the
price you would have to pay some day. He has been either wilfully
weak--or worse. A man takes a mean advantage of a woman in all such
matters. It is not a question of right or wrong altogether--it isn't
fair.

"I have burned over such things ever since I was a girl--I am ready now
to prove to you my desire to help you. Will you let me, Joyce?"

"You are very, very good. I can see you are better and kinder than any
other woman I ever knew. I believe all that you say is true. If I did
not think that, I could not do what I am going to do."

Joyce spoke very quietly, very simply. She was not even confused when
she poured out the deepest secrets of her heart. She was worn and spent;
loneliness, confl