ourselves--of each other. Why, don't you see, we are only just beginning
to live, dear--you must have faith!" and again her arms encircled him.

"But you don't know--" he stammered.

"Don't know what, dear?"

He dropped into his chair, and she sank on her knees at his side. A
horrible black abyss into which he was falling, seemed to open at his
feet. Her hands were the only ones that could draw him back and save
him.

"Don't know what?" she repeated.

The mystery of his man's nature, with its mingled strength and weakness,
was something she could not resist.

"Does it ever do any good to pray, I wonder?" he gasped.

"I wonder, too!" she echoed breathlessly.

He laughed.

"What rot I'm talking!" he said.

"What is it that is wrong, Marsh?"

"Nothing--nothing--I can't tell you--"

"You can tell me anything, I would always understand--always, dear.