“I wonder”—­she looked away—­“I wonder if any one could do that?  Or if it would be wise if he could?”

“Joan, when I saw you to-night, after the shock—­I could have fallen on my knees in gratitude—­there have been hours when the fear I had about you nearly drove me crazy; made me feel I had no right—­to Nancy.”

“So you—­did remember, for a little time?”

“Yes.  I went to the Brier Bush—­Miss Gordon gave me to understand that you had gone away with someone—­married, she thought.

“Joan—­who was—­Pat?”

For a moment Joan could not understand, then, as was the way with her, the whole truth flooded in.

Raymond had taken thought for her—­Elspeth had deceived him—­oh! how hard Elspeth could be.  Joan recalled scenes behind closed doors when Elspeth Gordon dealt with her assistants!

“And when you thought—­I had—­gone away—­you felt free?” Joan’s face quivered.  Raymond nodded.  How easy it was to talk to Joan.  How quick she was to comprehend and help one over a hard stretch!

“Joan—­who was Pat?” That seemed to be the vital thing now.  And then Joan told him.  As she spoke in low, trembling tones, she saw his head bow in his hands; she knew that he was suffering with her, for her; as good men do for their women.  Joan was conscious of this attitude of Raymond’s—­she was reinstated; fixed, at last, where she could be understood:  she belonged to his world!

“Poor little girl!  After the beast in me dashed your card house to atoms you made another try—­alone!” Raymond raised his face.

“No—­I had Pat.”  At that instant Patricia symbolized the link between the unreal and the real.

“Yes, for a little while—­but, Joan, it didn’t pay—­the danger you ran and all that—­did it?  Such girls as you cannot afford such experiences.”

“Yes.  Having had Pat, I am able to see—­wider.”

Joan was thinking of the girls whom Raymond could not have understood or sympathized with!  Girls such as she might so easily have been like—­unless——­ Unless what?

“Joan, you and I always said we could speak plain truth, didn’t we?” Kenneth’s words brought her back.

“Of course!”

“Well,” Raymond dropped his eyes and flushed, “you really didn’t care—­not in the one, particular way, did you?  It was only play; you meant that?”

“It was only play, Ken.  The suffering came because we did not know what we were playing with.  It’s the not knowing that matters.”

“Joan, you have seen the worst in me——?”

“Yes, and the best, Ken.  It was like seeing you come back from hell—­unharmed.”

“Do you think I should tell Nancy?  Put her on her guard?  There is something in me——­”

At this Joan leaned forward with a new light on her face—­it was the maternal taking shape.

“No, Ken, you must not tell Nan.  With her it is the not knowing that matters.  She must be guarded; not put on guard.  I know now that Nan will be safe with you; I wasn’t sure before; but if you raised a doubt in her mind all would go wrong.  She was always like that.”