"Don't they, Mr. Huntter?"

"Certainly not! What I meant was this: You seem, for a trained woman,
very human and--and--well, what shall I say?--observing and rather
a--thoroughbred. If _you_ loved, now, loved really, is there anything you
would not forgive a man? That is, if his love for you was the biggest
thing in his life?"

Priscilla stood quite still and looked at the pale, handsome face on the
pillow.

"My love--yes; my love could and would forgive anything, if it related
only to--to--the man I loved and--me!"

The frown deepened on Huntter's face; he turned uneasily.

"After all," he muttered, "a man and woman see things so differently.
There is no use!"

"I wonder--if things would not seem plainer if they saw them--together?"

But Priscilla saw she had gone too far. The whimsical mood in Huntter had
passed. He was himself again, and she was his nurse--his nurse who knew
too much! More fretfully than he had ever spoken to her, he said:

"I wish to be alone, Miss Glynn."

Priscilla passed out, leaving the door between the rooms ajar, and lay
down upon the couch.