Something he had never known or thought of before entered into his passion and purified it . He loved Joan . Did he love her well enough to stand aside and let another take the sweetness and grace that was now his own ? Did he love her well enough to save her from the poverty-stricken , shamed life she must lead with him ? Did he love her better than himself ? `` I ai n't fit to think of her , '' he groaned . `` I never did a decent thing in my life , as they say . But how can I give her up -- God , how can I ? '' He lay still a long time after that , until the moonlight crept around the boat and drove away the shadow . Then he got up and went slowly down to the water 's edge with Joan 's rose , all wet with his unaccustomed tears , in his hands . Slowly and reverently he plucked off the petals and scattered them on the ripples , where they drifted lightly off like fairy shallops on moonshine . When the last one had fluttered from his fingers , he went back to the house and hunted up Captain Alec Matheson , who was smoking his pipe in a corner of the verandah and watching the young folks dancing through the open door . The two men talked together for some time . When the dance broke up and the guests straggled homeward , Paul sought Joan . Rob Shelley had his own girl to see home and relinquished the guardianship of his sister with a scowl . Paul strode out of the kitchen and down the steps at the side of Joan , smiling with his usual daredeviltry . He whistled noisily all the way up the lane . `` Great little dance , '' he said . `` My last in Prospect for a spell , I guess . '' `` Why ? ''
asked XXXXX wonderingly .
Joan Matheson Paul Shelley dance daredeviltry guardianship house moonshine smoking