grave steady voice,

"You do not believe that, else you would never have said it."

Her composure must have surprised him, for he looked suddenly up, then
begged her pardon. "I did not hurt you, surely? We must not part with
the least shadow of unkindness between us."

"No." She offered her hand, and he took it--gently, affectionately, but
only affectionately. The one step beyond affection, which leads into
another world, another life, he seemed determined not to pass.

For at least half an hour he sat there with David on his knee, or rising
up restlessly to pace the room with David on his shoulder; but apparently
not desiring the child's absence, rather wishing to keep him as a sort of
barrier. Against what?--himself? And so minute after minute slipped by;
and Miss Williams, sitting in her place by the window, already saw,
dotting the Links, group after group of the afternoon church-goers
wandering quietly home--so quietly, so happily, fathers and mothers and
children, companions and friends--for whom was no parting and no pain.

Mr. Roy suddenly took out his watch. "I must go now; I see I have spent
all but my last five minutes. Good-by, David, my lad; you'll be a big
man, maybe, when I see you again. Miss Williams" (standing before her
with an expression on his face such as she had never seen before),
"before I go there was a question I had determined to ask you--a purely
ethical question which a friend of mine has been putting to me, and I
could not answer; that is, I could from the man's side, the worldly side.
A woman might think differently."