w morning, then," he said quietly, and went out the door.

All that hot August morning Tillie worked in a daze. Mrs. McKee watched
her and said nothing. She interpreted the girl's white face and set lips
as the result of having had to dismiss Schwitter again, and looked for
time to bring peace, as it had done before.

Le Moyne came late to his midday meal. For once, the mental anaesthesia
of endless figures had failed him. On his way home he had drawn his
small savings from the bank, and mailed them, in cash and registered, to
a back street in the slums of a distant city. He had done this before,
and always with a feeling of exaltation, as if, for a time at least,
the burden he carried was lightened. But to-day he experienced no
compensatory relief. Life was dull and stale to him, effort ineffectual.
At thirty a man should look back with tenderness, forward with hope. K.
Le Moyne dared not look back, and had no desire to look ahead into empty
years.

Although he ate little, the dining-room was empty when he finished.
Usually he had some cheerful banter for Tillie, to which she responded
in kind. But, what with the heat and with heaviness of spirit, he did
not notice her depression until he rose.

"Why, you're not sick, are you, Tillie?"

"Me? Oh, no. Low in my mind, I guess."

"It's the heat. It's fearful. Look here. If I send you two tickets to a
roof garden where there's a variety show, can't you take a friend and go
to-night?"

"Thanks; I guess I'll not go out."

Then, unexpectedly, she bent her head against a chair-back and fell to
silent crying. K. let her cry for a moment. Then:--

"Now--tell me about it."

"I'm just worried; that's all."

"Let's see if we can't fix up the worries. Come, now, out with them!"

"I'm a wicked woman, Mr. Le Moyne."

"Then I'm the person to tell it to. I--I'm pretty much a lost soul
myself."

He put an arm over her shoulders and drew her up, facing him.

"Suppose we go into the parlor and talk it out. I'll bet things are not
as bad as you imagine."

But when, in the parlor that had seen Mr. Schwitter's strange proposal
of the morning, Tillie poured out her story, K.'s face grew grave.

"The wicked part is that I want to go with him," she finished. "I keep
thinking about being out in the country, and him coming into supper, and
everything nice for him and me cleaned up and waiting--O my God! I've
always been a good woman until now."

"I--I understand a great deal