"Bles," she cried, "how can I grow pure?"

He looked at her listlessly.

"Never--never again," he slowly answered her.

Dark fear swept her drawn face.

"Never?" she gasped.

Pity surged and fought in his breast; but one thought held and burned
him. He bent to her fiercely:

"Who?" he demanded.

She pointed toward the Cresswell Oaks, and he turned away. She did not
attempt to stop him again, but dropped her hands and stared drearily up
into the clear sky with its shining worlds.

"Good-bye, Bles," she said slowly. "I thank God he gave you to me--just
a little time." She hesitated and waited. There came no word as the man
moved slowly away. She stood motionless. Then slowly he turned and came
back. He laid his hand a moment, lightly, upon her head.

"Good-bye--Zora," he sobbed, and was gone.

She did not look up, but knelt there silent, dry-eyed, till the last
rustle of his going died in the night. And then, like a waiting storm,
the torrent of her grief swept down upon her; she stretched herself upon
the black and fleece-strewn earth, and writhed.