"To avoid questions I couldn't answer."
"You will answer them now?"
"With reservations."
The girl drew herself up with a movement of quiet determination and spoke in even tones:
"My parents are Southern?"
"Yes——"
"My father and mother were—were"—her voice failed, her head dropped and in an effort at self-control she walked to the table, took a book in her hand and tried to turn its leaves. The hideous question over which she had long brooded was too horrible to put into words. The answer he might give was too big with tragic possibilities. She tried to speak again and couldn't. He looked at her with a great pity in his heart and when at last she spoke her voice was scarcely a whisper:
"My father and mother were married?"
He knew it was coming and that he must answer, and yet hesitated. His reply was low, but it rang through her soul like the stroke of a great bell tolling for the dead:
"No!"