That seeming lack of genuineness in you stifled my soul.

I could no longer even want to be good--and all that for the lack of this dear foolish bit of realness in you." "No one can know better than I that my nature is a faulty one, Nance--" "Say unfortunate, Allan--not faulty.

I shall never again believe a fault of you.

How stupid a woman can be, how superficial in her judgments--and what stupids they are who say she is intuitive! Do you know, I believed in Bernal infinitely more than I can tell you, and Bernal made me believe in everything else--in God and goodness and virtue and truth--in all the good things we like to believe in--yet see what he did!" "My dear, I know little of the circumstances, but--" "It isn't _that_--I can't judge him in that--but this I must judge--Bernal, when he saw I did not know who had been there, was willing I should think it was you.

To retain my respect he was willing to betray you." She laughed, a little hard laugh, and seemed to be in pain.