He had no intention of trying to reform because he could not and because he did not even want to . He was not fit to touch Joan 's hand . Yet he had meant to marry her ! But to spoil her life ! Would it do that ? Yes , it surely would . And if he were out of the way , taking his baleful charm out of her life , Connor Mitchell might and doubtless would win her yet and give her all he could not . The man suddenly felt his eyes wet with tears . He had never shed a tear in his daredevil life before , but they came hot and stinging now . 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 XXXXX a corner of the verandah and watching the young folks dancing through the open door .
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