"No. Oh! No."
"What do you know of this man Gaston, really? Mr. Drew says he is quite different from the people hereabout. You do not even know the true man, his name, nor antecedents. The time may come when he will return to his former life, whatever it was; can you not see how you would—interfere with such a plan? If he left you—what would he leave you to? And if he were one of a thousand and took you with him—what then? In either case it would mean your unhappiness and his—shame."
Joyce winced, and Ruth Dale saw the hands clutch the arms of the chair. She felt that she was making an impression, and her ardour grew.
"I do not know Gaston," she went on, "but I do know the world; and for women placed as you are, Joyce, there is no alternative. Your very love should urge you to accept the situation, hard as it may seem."
"It does." For a moment the lovely head drooped and the white lids quivered over the pain-filled eyes.
"No matter how—good a man—this Mr. Gaston has been to you—he knew the price you would have to pay some day. He has been either wilfully weak—or worse. A man takes a mean advantage of a woman in all such matters. It is not a question of right or wrong altogether—it isn't fair.
"I have burned over such things ever since I was a girl—I am ready now to prove to you my desire to help you. Will you let me, Joyce?"
"You are very, very good. I can see you are better and kinder than any other woman I ever knew. I believe all that you say is true. If I did not think that, I could not do what I am going to do."
Joyce spoke very quietly, very simply. She was not even confused when she poured out the deepest secrets of her heart. She was worn and spent; loneliness, conflict and soul-torture had torn down all her defenses.
"You are right in all that you have said—but you don't know all!" The flame rose in the pallid face; "but if you did, the truth of what you have said would be all the deeper.