Nan smiled at her curiously.

“Roger will never get over the consequences of his accident,” she said, accenting the word “consequences.”  “Can you imagine what it’s going to mean to him to be tied down to a couch for the rest of his days?  An outdoor man, like Roger, who has hunted and shot and fished all his life?”

“Of course I can imagine!  It’s all too dreadful to think of! . . .  But now Peter’s free, you can’t—­you can’t mean to give him up for Roger!”

“I must,” answered Nan quietly.  “I can’t take the last thing he values from a man who’s lost nearly everything.”

Kitty grasped her by the arm.

“Do you mean,” she said incredulously, “do you mean you’re going to sacrifice Peter to Roger?”

“It won’t hurt Peter—­now—­as it would have done before.”  Nan spoke rather tonelessly.  “He’s already lost his faith and trust in me.  The worst wrench for him is over.  I—­I think”—­a little unevenly—­“that I’m glad now he thought what he did—­that he couldn’t find it in his heart to forgive me.  It’ll make it easier for him.”

“Easier?  Yes, if you actually do what you say you will.  But—­you’re deliberately taking away his happiness, robbing him of it, even though he doesn’t know he’s being robbed.  Good heavens, Nan!”—­harshly—­“Did you ever love him?”

“I don’t think you want an answer to that question,” returned Nan gently.  “But, you see, I can’t—­divide myself—­between Peter and Roger.”

“Of course you can’t!  Only why sacrifice both yourself and Peter to Roger?  It isn’t reasonable!”

“Because I think he needs me most.  Just picture it, Kitty.  He’s got nothing left to look forward to till he dies!  Nothing! . . .  Oh, I can’t add to what he’ll have to bear!  He’s so helpless!”

“You’ll have plenty to bear yourself—­tied to a helpless man of Roger’s temper,” retorted “Kitty.

“Yes”—­soberly—­“I think—­I’m prepared for that.”

“Prepared?”

“Yes.  It seems to me as though I’ve known all afternoon that this was coming—­that Roger might be crippled beyond curing.  And I’ve looked at it from every angle, so as to be quite sure of myself.”  She paused.  “I’m quite sure, now.”

The quiet resolution in her voice convinced Kitty that her mind was made up.  Nevertheless, for nearly an hour she tried by every argument in her power, by every entreaty, to shake her decision.  But Nan held her ground.

“I must do it,” she said.  “It’s useless trying to dissuade me.  It’s so clear to me that it’s the one thing I must do.  Don’t any anything more about it, Kitten.  You’re only wearing yourself out”—­appealingly.  “I wish—­I wish you’d try to help me to do it!  It won’t be the easiest thing in the world”—­with a brief smile that was infinitely more sad than tears—­“I know that.”

“Help you?” cried Kitty passionately.  “Help you to ruin your life, and Peter’s with it?  No, I won’t help you.  I tell you, Nan, you can’t do this thing!  You shall not marry Roger Trenby!”