she said faintly . `` Not likely . I 'm pretty well tired of Prospect and I have n't got anything to hold me here . Things 'll be livelier down south . '' Joan said nothing more . They walked along the spruce-fringed roads where the moonbeams laughed down through the thick , softly swaying boughs . Paul whistled one rollicking tune after another . The girl bit her lips and clenched her hands . He cared nothing for her -- he had been making a mock of her as of others . Hurt pride and wounded love fought each other in her soul . Pride conquered . She would not let him , or anyone , see that she cared . She would not care ! At her gate Paul held out his hand . `` Well , good-bye , Joan . I 'm sailing tomorrow so I wo n't see you again -- not for years likely . You will be some sober old married woman when I come back to Prospect , if I ever do . '' `` Good-bye , '' said Joan steadily . She gave him her cold hand and looked calmly into his face without quailing . She had loved him with all her heart , but now a fatal scorn of him was already mingling with her love .
He was what they XXXXX he was , a scamp without principle or honour .
'm Hurt conquered gave laughed quailing rollicking said see whistled