and he helped her lay off her cape, he suddenly faced her.
"We are in a strange relation to each other, Miss Santoine—stranger than you know," he said unevenly.
She waited for him to go on.
"We have talked sometimes of the likeness of the everyday life to war," he continued. "In war men and women sometimes do or countenance things they know to be evil because they believe that by means of them there is accomplished some greater good; in peace, in life, men—and women—sometimes do the same. When the time comes that you comprehend what our actual relation is, I—I want you to know that I understand that whatever you have done was done because you believed it might bring about the greater good. I—I have seen in you—in your father—only kindness, high honor, sympathy. If I did not know—"
She started, gazing at him; what he said had absolutely no meaning for her. "What is it that you know?" she demanded.
He did not reply; his hand went out to hers, seized it, crushed it, and he started away. As he went up the stair—still, in his absorption, carrying cap and overcoat—she stood staring after him in perplexity.
