DIANA'S DECISION Max had been gone a week--a week of distress and miserable indecision for Diana, racked as she was between her love and her conviction that marriage under the only circumstances possible would inevitably bring unhappiness.

Over and above this fear there was the instinctive recoil she felt from Errington's demand for such blind faith.

Her pride rebelled against it.

If he loved her and had confidence in her, why couldn't he trust her with his secret?
It was treating her like a child, and it would be wrong--all wrong--she argued, to begin their married life with concealment and secrecy for its foundation.
One morning she even wrote to him, telling him definitely either that he must trust her altogether, or that they must part irrevocably.

But the letter was torn up the same afternoon, and Diana went to bed that night with her decision still untaken.
For several nights she had slept but little, and once again she passed long hours tossing feverishly from side to side of the bed or pacing up and down her room, love and pride fighting a stubborn battle within her.