“And you are going to forego a woman’s heritage—­home and children—­for such a whim?  Your mother had recompenses; are you not afraid of the—­future?”

“Not if I respect it and do not dishonour the present.”

“A lonely man or woman—­an outcast from the ordinary—­is a creature of hell!”

Lynda shook her head.

“Go on!” Truedale commanded sternly.  “Morrell is a good fellow.  From my prison I took care to find that out.  Brace did me practical service when he acted as sleuth before your engagement!”

Lynda coloured and frowned.

“I did not know about that,” was all she said.

“It doesn’t matter—­only I’m glad I can feel sorry for him and angry at you.  I never knew you could be a fool, Lynda.”

“I dare say we all can, if we put our minds to it—­sometimes without.  Well! that’s the whole story, Uncle William.”

“It’s only the preface.  See here, Lynda, did it ever strike you that a woman like you doesn’t come to such a conclusion as you have without an experience—­a contrast to go by?”

“I—­I do not know what you mean, Uncle William.”

“I think you do.  I have no right to probe, but I have a right to—­to help you if I can.  You’ve done much for your mother; can you deny me the—­the honour of doing something for her?”

“There’s nothing—­to do.”

“Let us see!  You’re just a plain girl when all’s said and done.  You’ve got a little more backbone and wit than some, but your heart’s in the same place as other women’s and you’re no different in the main.  You want the sane, right things just as they do—­home, children, and security from the things women dread.  A man can give a woman a chance for her best development; she ought to recognize that and—­yes—­appreciate it.”

“Surely!” this came very softly from the lips screened now by two cold shivering hands.  “A woman does recognize it; she appreciates it, but that does not exclude her from—­choice.”

“One man—­of course within limits and reason—­is as good as another when he loves a woman and makes her love him.  You certainly thought you loved Morrell.  You had nothing to gain unless you did.  You probably earned as much as he.”

“That’s true.  All quite true.”

“Then something happened!” Truedale flung his half-smoked cigar in the fire.  “What was it, Lynda?”

“There—­was nothing—­really—­”

“There was something.  There was—­Con!”

“Oh! how—­how can you?” Lynda started back.  She meant to say “How dare you?”—­but the drawn and tortured face restrained her.