Jean thought of her own groping and of her mother, the tense little figure praying to her God.
"I don't know."
"There is nothing. Free will? That's only the power to choose between one dead deed and another."
Jean thought of Dr. Mary.
"It isn't true," she cried eagerly. "We are not locked in alone. We're bound tight to every other living soul on earth. We're not blind or lost in a fog. There's nothing so ugly in the whole world that we can't make beautiful if we want to."
Herrick drew her a little closer. "Can we, Jean? Maybe. But not alone. I know. I have been alone all my life—until I met you."
His voice vibrated with the passion that was carrying him beyond his control. He was like a man borne on a swift current past familiar banks, unable to stop. And on the bank stood all the women he had ever known, mocking, hating, amused. Plainest of all was The Kitten. Her eyes were calm, and he heard her say quietly: "You will have to marry her."
"That's why I have done nothing, Jean, because I have been always alone. Will you help me, Jean?"
"Yes." Jean spoke gravely. "I will help you as much as I can."
"Will you marry me?" he asked quietly. "I need you so."