"I do not want to pay more than I owe."
"What do you mean by that?"
"I mean that as true as God hears me I meant no wrong. I've done things that girls should not do. I see that now. But I believed that you understood. I thought that, in a way, you were like me—you were so fine and happy. I still have faith that when you are yourself again you will realize this. Oh! it is horrible that drink can do such an awful thing to you."
"Whatever ideals I may have had," Raymond broke in, "you have destroyed. Perhaps you think men have no ideals? Some women do."
"Oh! I believe with all my soul that they have. It was because I did think that, that I dared to trust you." Joan was pleading; she could not own defeat; she was appealing to him for himself.
But Raymond gave a sneering laugh.
"You trusted so much," he said, "that you hid behind a veil and would not tell your name."
Raymond was hearing himself speak as if he were an eavesdropper. He trembled and breathed hard as a runner does who is near the goal.
"What's one night in a life?" he asked, as if it were being dragged from him.
Again his voice startled him. He looked around, hoping he might discover who it was that spoke.