much love in the world as there ought to be, and we all
need to hold hands, but--don't fancy anything like that."

"I wanted to tell you. If I hadn't known about her I wouldn't have told
you, but--you said it when you said there's not as much love as there
ought to be. I'm gone, but I guess my caring for you hasn't hurt me any.
It's the only reason I'm alive to-day."

She freed her hand, and stood staring out over the little autumn
garden. There was such brooding trouble in her face that he watched her
anxiously.

"I think mother suspects," she said at last.

"I hope not, Edith."

"I think she does. She watches me all the time, and she asked to see Dan
to-night. Only he didn't come home."

"You must deny it, Edith," he said, almost fiercely. "She must not know,
ever. That is one thing we can save her, and must save her."

But, going upstairs as usual before he went out, he realized that Edith
was right, and that matters had reached a crisis. The sick woman had
eaten nothing, and her eyes were sunken and anxious. There was an
unspoken question in them, too, as she turned them on him. Most
significant of all, the little album was not beside her, nor the usual
litter of newspapers on the bed.

"I wish you weren't going out, Willy," she said querulously. "I want to
talk to you about something."

"Can't we discuss it in the morning?"

"I won't sleep till I get it off my mind, Willy." But he could not face
that situation then. He needed time, for one thing. Surely there must be
some way out, some way to send this frail little woman dreamless to her
last sleep, life could not be so cruel that death would seem kind.

He spoke at three different meetings that night, for the election was
close at hand. Pink Denslow took him about in his car, and stood waiting
for him at the back of the crowd. In the intervals between hall and hall
Pink found Willy Cameron very silent and very grave, but he could not
know that the young man beside him was trying to solve a difficult
question. Which was: did two wrongs ever make a right?

At the end of the last meeting Willy Cameron decided to walk home.

"I have some things to think over. Pink," he said. "Thanks for the car.
It saves a lot of time."

Pink sat at the wheel, carefully scrutinizing Willy. It struck him then
that Cameron looked fagged and unhappy.

"Nothing I can do, I suppose?"

"Thanks, no."

Pink knew nothing of Lily's marriage, nor of the events that had
fol