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.
Prove to me that our love is everything; take me back into your confidence!" "No," he gasped hoarsely.

"I can't tell you--you'd hate me if I did; you'd never forget--you couldn't!" She turned her eyes on him in breathless inquiry.
"I would--I promise you now! Marsh, I promise you, can't you believe-- ?" He shook his head and gazed somberly into her eyes.

She rested her cheek against the back of his hand where it lay on the arm of his chair.