“I do not know. Are we responsible for what we cannot help? I could not condemn any one but myself. The existence of evil is true, but how horrible! And how it spoils our lives.”
“Spoils our lives,” he repeated. “You are quite right! Tell me, can a man or a woman love two people at once? Is it possible to love evil and good?”
Launa grew pale.
“No one can love evil.”
“You are right,” he said, with triumph. “It is not love then. To do right, one should love something, someone.”
“Yes,” she half whispered, “love someone, even if they are beyond one’s reach.”
“You have comforted me. I must say good-bye, now. No, I will see you once again, to-night. In six weeks I shall come back, and I shall be glad—glad. What shall you be?”
She did not answer, but stood up and walked across the room to look at a photograph. She would never go back to Canada, never.
“Where did you get that photograph?” he asked. “Is it new? Who is it?”
It was Paul. She had kept it locked up until now.