"And afterward?"
"Start over again."
"That would be very difficult. The stigma of crime clings to a man. Its stamp remains on him, try as he will to shake it off. My life would be ruined were I to pursue such a course."
"Not your real life. You would, of course, lose standing among your supposed friends; but you would not lose it among those whose regard went deeper. Even if you did—what would it matter?"
"But to be alone, friendless! Who would help me piece together the mangled fragments of such a past—for I should need help; I could not do it alone? Do you imagine that in all the world there would be even one person whose loyalty and affection would survive so acid a test?"
"There might be," she murmured, turning away her head.
"Even so, would I have the presumption to accept such a service? The right to impose on a devotion so self-effacing?"
"The person might be glad, proud to help you—consider it a privilege."
"Who would, Marcia? Do you know of anyone?"
She leaped to her feet.