"But—what then?" Joyce felt her heart stand still.
"Then? why I'm going to find Jude. I'm going to buy him off—if necessary. He shall free you—and then—then!"
Gaston held the pale face off from him and searched the wide, startled eyes.
"And then?" The words fell into a question.
"But how"—Joyce panted; "how could I feel sure this great thing you plan is not another—unselfish act? Suppose, oh! suppose—she, that—that other girl—should come back—what then?"
"Hear me, Joyce. There is never going to be any one else. We are going back together—into that other life. Why, the possibility almost blinds me.
"They shall see what I've brought out of my experience. We'll make a place for ourselves and redeem the past. They shall seek us, my darling, and they shall see at last that I am master of my life!"
His enthusiasm and exaltation carried Joyce along with him.
"Dare I trust—not you—but myself?" she whispered. "After everything is said—I am—what I am!"
"Yes—you are what you are!" Gaston pressed his lips against her trembling mouth. "And now, good-bye!" he released her, and led her toward her door. "I must make a few preparations—then get to Filmer. It's all very wonderful, but it is more true than wonderful. Until I come, then—and it may take time, dear—you will remember?"