"Peter Donaldson."
"Oh," gasped Elaine, "why did he do it? Why did he do it?"
The mirror recognized the question as one which every woman has asked at least once in her lifetime. But somehow this did not swerve her from her insistence.
"You must judge him from what you yourself have seen of him," the mirror harped back to Donaldson's own words.
"He acted bravely before me—before Ben. He did do bravely," cried the girl.
"And yet below these acts he had a craven heart?" hinted she of the mirror.
"No. No. It isn't possible! It isn't possible!"
"But he admitted the dreadful thing he tried to do."
"That was the folly of a moment. He has grown through it. He asked no mercy—asked no pardon. Did n't you see the expression upon his haggard face as he left the room?"
"Were you looking?" queried she of the mirror in surprise. "Your eyes were away from him."