so anxious to take it out of my hands? It was you who ended our
acquaintance on Sunday, remember."

"Yes, I know. Twice I've closed the door between us, and twice fate has
seen fit to open it again."

"Twice? . . . Then--then it _was_ you--in Grellingham Place that day?"

"Yes," he acknowledged simply.

Diana bent her head to hide the small, secret smile that carved her lips.

At last, after a pause--

"But why--why do you not want to know me?" she asked wonderingly.

"Not want to?" he muttered below his breath. "God in heaven! _Not want
to_!" His hand moved restlessly. After a minute he answered her,
speaking very gently.

"Because I think you were born to stand in the sunshine. Some of us
stand always in the shadow; it creeps about our feet, following us
wherever we go. And I would not darken the sunlit places of your life
with the shadow that clings to mine."

There was an undercurrent of deep sadness in his tones.

"Can't you--can't you banish the shadow?" faltered Diana. A sense of
tragedy oppressed her. "Life is surely made for happiness," she added, a
little wistfully.