"Oh, Jean," she said, and drew slightly away. He drew her back to him, and she yielded and settled closely in the curve of his arm, and he told her the story.

"Honestly, that was too bad. You sacrificed much. And to think that you loved a white girl!"

"It was so."

"So it came that you sacrificed the real love to be loyal to the race we belong to?"

"I guess you may call it that."

"It was manly, though. I admire your strength."

"It was then I wrote you."

"Yes. And—"

"Others."

"I understand. You loved none of us, perhaps, and it was because you had not had the opportunity, maybe?"