unfair."

"Unfair to me?"

"Yes, to you."

For the second time Roberts gestured. "Take that consideration out of the
discussion absolutely, please," he said. "With that understanding do you
still wish this pretence to go on?"

"I wish to keep your friendship."

"My friendship--nothing more? I'm brutally blunt, I realize; but I can't
let to-night, this last night, go by without knowing something of how you
feel. You never have given me even so much as a hint, you know. I've
waited patiently, I think, for you to select the moment for confidence;
but you avoid it always; and to-morrow at this time--You know I love you,
Elice. Knowing that, do you still wish me to go away pretending merely
polite friendship? Do you wish it to be that way, Elice?"

The girl ignored the question, ignored all except the dominant
statement.

"Yes, I know you love me," she echoed. "You told me so once before."

"Once! A thousand times; you understood the language. It seems foolish
even to reiterate the fact now. And yet you've never answered."

"I know. I said it was unfair; and still--"

"You won't answer even yet."

"I can't. I'm drifting and waiting for light. Don't misunderstand; that
isn't religion--I've not been to church in a year, or said a prayer. It
isn't that at all. I simply don't want to hate myself, or be hated by
another justly later."

"And you expect to drift on until that light comes?"

A halt, long enough for second thought or renewal of a decision. "I can't
do otherwise. There's no other way. It's inevitable."

"'Inevitable!'" Roberts shrugged impatiently. "I don't like the word. It
belongs in the same class with 'chance' and 'predestination' and 'luck.'
There are few things inevitable except death."

"This is one--that I must wait."

"And you can't even take me into your confidence, about the reason why?
Mind, I don't ask it unless you voluntarily desire. I merely suggest."

"No," steadily; "I can't tell you the reason. I've got to decide for
myself--when light comes."

Roberts' great shoulders squared significantly.

"But if I know it already," he suggested evenly, "what then?"

No answer, although the other waited half a minute.

"I repeat: what if I know it already?"

"Do you know?"

Roberts' glance wandered into the shadow where the girl was, then
returned slowly to the street and the red car.

"I rode East with Steve Armstrong," he said, "as far as he went. I also
wired him when I was com