"Yes, I know. Twice I've closed the door between us, and twice fate has seen fit to open it again."
"Twice? . . . Then—then it was you—in Grellingham Place that day?"
"Yes," he acknowledged simply.
Diana bent her head to hide the small, secret smile that carved her lips.
At last, after a pause—
"But why—why do you not want to know me?" she asked wonderingly.
"Not want to?" he muttered below his breath. "God in heaven! Not want to!" His hand moved restlessly. After a minute he answered her, speaking very gently.
"Because I think you were born to stand in the sunshine. Some of us stand always in the shadow; it creeps about our feet, following us wherever we go. And I would not darken the sunlit places of your life with the shadow that clings to mine."
There was an undercurrent of deep sadness in his tones.
"Can't you—can't you banish the shadow?" faltered Diana. A sense of tragedy oppressed her. "Life is surely made for happiness," she added, a little wistfully.