rew quiet and neither of us spoke for a long
while. We felt the life of the City stirring under us, but overhead
were the stars, the same stars that hung above the peace of Horsham
Manor, where in the old days we had dreamed our dreams.

"You care for her?" I ventured softly at last.

He did not speak at once. His gaze was afar.

"Care for her?" he murmured after awhile, "God help me! I love her
with all the best of me, Roger. I always have loved her. It's so
strange to me now that I never knew it before--so strange and
pitiful--now when it is too late."

"Too late, boy?" I said with a smile. "Life for you, for you both, is
just beginning."

"No, Roger; I would give everything in the world to be able to go to
her and ask her to marry me. But I can't--" his voice sank and broke,
"after _that_. I'm a beast--unclean."

He rose and took a pace away from me. "We mustn't speak of
that--again. It makes me think of what I owe to--the other."

"You owe her nothing. She has refused you. She doesn't care. Her whole
life avows it. She has forgotten. Why shouldn't you?"

"I can't forget. And I can't look in Una's eyes, Roger. They're so
clear, so trusting; she believes in me--utterly. It's a mockery, to
have her near me so much and not be able to tell her--"

"Tell her!" I broke in as he paused, "Waste no time. Tell her that you
love her. Don't be a fool. She loves you. She always has. I know it."

He turned quickly, caught me by the shoulders and peered closely into
my face. "You think so, Roger? Do you?" he said.

"I'm sure of it; from the very first."

Slowly his hands relaxed and he turned away. "No--I--can't. I would
have to tell her all. I owe her that. She would despise me."

"You might at least give her that opportunity," I suggested dryly.

"No," he said softly. "I wouldn't dare. It would make a terrible
difference between us. I couldn't."

And then his hand grasping my arm as he pushed me toward the stairway,
"Never speak of this again, Roger--do you hear? Never." I nodded and
said no more, for he had set me to thinking deeply, and I walked all
the way uptown to my hotel turning the matter over in my mind,
arriving, before sleep came, at a decision.

In the morning at half-past seven I dared to call Una upon the
telephone. I knew her habits and she answered at once, agreeing to
give me an hour before she went down town. When I reached the
Habberton house she was ready for the street, and when I told her