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"Well, then, you mean she's worthless," whispered Patricia, with indignation.

"I'm in love with her," answered Jack, in the same low tone of doggedness. "That's all."

"Isn't it a funny sort of love that decries ... as you've been doing?" She was still warm with loyalty, to hide the dreadful convincingness of his words.

"You're just a dear little girl, as kind as anything," Jack said. "And you think I'm a cantankerous fool."

"No ... never that. Oh, no." Patricia made a gesture of uneasiness, her hand almost upon his hand in consolation. "No, I think you're unhappy and bitter, looking at the dark side ... exaggerating...."

Jack Penton gave a little bitter laugh.

"Exaggerating!" he said. "I wish I was!"

"Then leave her. Let her learn. You're only driving her deeper...."

"I can't leave her," he answered, doggedly. "I'm in love with her. I'd go, and she'd call to me, and I'd come running back. See, I'm not a strong chap. Some men could do it. I can't."

"No, no. It's dreadful. Dreadful. I feel helpless. I don't know what to say. I'm so sorry. So really sorry."