This Way for a Shroud

Looking at the thin, narrow-shouldered young fellow with his serious eyes and the livid birth-mark across the right side of his face, Conrad suddenly realized that perhaps a girl like Frances could fall in love with such a man.

During the week Conrad had been staying at the lodge, seeing Frances every day, he had come to love her more each time he saw her. She seemed to him, especially now she was no longer angry with him, to be the exact antithesis of Janey. Her voice, her movements, her eyes, even the way she moved her hands, expressed a kindness and an understanding for which Conrad had unconsciously been groping all his life.

Janey had bitterly disappointed him. She took everything and gave nothing in return, but even then he might have been content to have an outlet for his affection had she not demanded more and more attention as if she were determined to find out the exact depth of his love.

The depth was deep enough, but it revolted against Janey's unreasonableness and her selfish and constant demands.

Frances wouldn't be like that, Conrad told himself. Experience had opened his eyes. He wished he had his time over again, and he cursed himself for being such a fool to have persuaded Janey to marry him.

His love for Frances had the same poignancy as Pete's, for he believed, like Pete believed, that his love would never come to fruition. Instead of Maurer standing in the way as in Pete's case, it was Janey.

Conrad had made the mistake that Frances's interest in Pete was founded on love when in fact it was founded on compassion.

Frances wasn't in love with Pete, but she was sorry for him, and in a girl of her sensibility, pity was as strong, if not stronger, than love.

She knew he had had the chance to kill her. He had had the weapon and the opportunity. He had been ordered to kill her, and he had risked his own life by staying his hand. That act made a great impression on her, and the fact that the crude naevus that disfigured his face must have embittered and soured his life made her want very much to try to make up in kindness for the years of bitterness he must have suffered.

When they met in the garden on the afternoon of the day Conrad had talked to Forest, Frances was very kind and sweet to Pete. They talked as other young people will talk to each other for the first time. They were shy and hesitant, groping for common ground.

It wasn't an easy meeting. They were sharply aware of the guards who patrolled the garden and who watched Pete with stony hard eyes.

Pete was painfully conscious of his birth-mark; he sat on Frances's right, and he kept his face turned so she shouldn't see the birth-mark. When he did turn to

look at her, his hand went instinctively to cover the mark.

Frances felt that this embarrassment was a slight on her own feelings, and after they had talked for a little while, she said suddenly, "That mark on your face is called a naevus, isn't it?"

He flinched and blood rushed to his face, and his eyes suddenly angry and hurt, searched for the slightest hint that she was about to bait him. >

But he couldn't mistake the kindness he saw in her eyes nor the sudden friendly smile she gave him.

"I want to talk about it," she said quietly. "Because it so embarrasses you, and it shouldn't. I believe you think it shocks me, but it doesn't. Don't you realize when I'm talking to you I look beyond that, and I don't really see it?"

Pete stared at her, and he was convinced at once that she was speaking sincerely. He realized she had said something he had longed to hear said by someone – anyone – but had never believed he would hear it. He was so moved he had to turn his head while he struggled to control his feelings.

He felt her hand on his arm.

"I didn't mean to upset you, but isn't there something that could be done about it? I've read, I'm sure, that people can be cured. Haven't you thought about it?"