haste to complete your book."

"If you mean that you need my assistance, the book can wait."

"I shouldn't have said that," she cut in quickly, her lips tightening
slightly. "It was utterly absurd of me to hint that I might require
assistance--that I cannot take care of myself. But I shall be proud of the
friendship of John Aldous."

"Yes, you can take care of yourself, Ladygray," said Aldous softly, looking
into her eyes and yet speaking as if to himself. "That is why you have
broken so curiously into my life. It's _that_--and not your beauty. I have
known beautiful women before. But they were--just women, frail things that
might snap under stress. I have always thought there is only one woman in
ten thousand who would not do that--under certain conditions. I believe you
are that one in ten thousand. You can go on to Tête Jaune alone. You can go
anywhere alone--and care for yourself."

He was looking at her so strangely that she held her breath, her lips
parted, the flush in her cheeks deepening.

"And the strangest part of it all is that I have always known you away back
in my imagination," he went on. "You have lived there, and have troubled
me. I could not construct you perfectly. It is almost inconceivable that
you should have borne the same name--Joanne. Joanne, of 'Fair Play.'"

She gave a little gasp.

"Joanne was--terrible," she cried. "She was bad--bad to the heart and soul
of her!"