not to marry the woman I did not love. I brooded over this thought all through the dinner hour and the early evening. Then you and mother left us, and I asked Dorothy to go for a little stroll in the garden. She refused at first⁠—I think the child was a little fearful of what I might say⁠—but I said nothing of the tumult in my heart. I realized, though, that she knew I loved her, and that⁠—she cared for me. I had thought she did, but never before had I felt so sure of it⁠—and the knowledge completely unmanned me. I bade her good night abruptly, and rather coldly, and then I went into the library and fought it out with myself. And I concluded that my duty was to Madeleine. I confess to a frantic desire to go to her and ask her, even at that last minute, to free me from my troth, and then I thought what a scandal it would create, and I knew that even if Dorothy and I both suffered, it was Madeleine’s right to leave matters as they were. Having decided, I proceeded to carry out my earlier intention of going over to the Van Norman house with the reliquary. It was so late then that I had no thought of seeing Madeleine, but⁠—and this, Rob, is my confession⁠—on the way there, I still had a lingering thought that if I should