Oldring had loved her.

He had so guarded her, so kept her from women and men and knowledge of life that her mind was as a child's.

That was part of the secret--part of the mystery.
That was the wonderful truth.

Not only was she not bad, but good, pure, innocent above all innocence in the world--the innocence of lonely girlhood.
He saw Oldring's magnificent eyes, inquisitive, searching, softening.

He saw them flare in amaze, in gladness, with love, then suddenly strain in terrible effort of will.