Many a man gives way to an evil impulse under the strain of a great temptation, but it does not necessarily follow that he cannot recover from that impulse, that his moral nature is broken down completely by the one lapse, even though it be a great one. As a matter of fact, a woman like Stephanie Maynard could scarcely have loved George Harnash as she did if he had not been on the whole much better than his worst.
Then and there Harnash came to a decision. Not without much inward wrestling and many groanings of spirit did he reach the conclusion that it was better not to try to cover up what he had done. To him entered Maynard. The cheery good morning of the elder man died on his lips as he noted the strain and anxiety in his young friend's face.
"What's the matter?" he began abruptly.
"Mr. Maynard," said Harnash, summoning his courage up to the self-accusing point, "I've something very important to say."
"What is it?" asked the financier, sitting down at the big desk, disregarding his mail, and staring at Harnash.
"It begins somewhat far back."
"Get to the point quickly."
"I will. I love your daughter. I have loved her ever since I met her, long before she became engaged to Beekman."
"Damn him."
"Wait a minute before you condemn him."