ave no right. I'm his--his. Do you understand? I'm
his. I shall live the life I choose, and you shall not molest me. I
know you. You've come to accuse me, to tell me all I am, to tax me
with my shame. It's cruel--cruel. Oh, God, help me--help me!"

The woman's voice died out in a piteous wail that smote straight to
the heart of the little man who stood shaking before her hysterical
outbreak. He knew not what to do. His love prompted him to go to her
and crush her to his simple, loving heart, but somehow he found
himself unable to do anything but gaze with longing eyes upon the
heart-broken figure, as she leant upon the foot-rail of the bed.

He stirred. And in the moments that passed while his eyes were fixed
upon her rich, heaving bosom, his mind groping vaguely, he became
aware of everything about him. He knew he was in her bedroom. He knew
that the furnishings were good. He knew that the sunlight was pouring
in through the open window, and that a broad band of dazzling light
was shining upon her lustrous dark hair. He knew all these things in
the same way that he knew she was suffering so that she came near
breaking his own sympathetic heart.

But though his intellect failed him, and he had no idea of what he
ought to say or do, words came at last and tumbled headlong from his
lips, just as they were inspired, all unconsidered, by his heart.

"Say, Jessie gal," he cried in a softly persuasive tone, "won't you
come to home--an'--an' help me out? Won't you, gal?"

But he was given no time to complete his appeal. The woman suddenly
raised her face, and once more broke out in hysterical fury.

"Home? Home? With you?" she cried. "Ha, ha! That's too good! Home,
with you to forever remind me what I am? For you to sneer at me, and
point me to your friends for what I am? Never, never! Go you back
where you came from. I'm not a wife. Do you hear? God help me, I'm--"
And she buried her face again upon her arms.

"Won't you come to home, gal?" the man persisted. "Won't you? I'm so
desp'rit lonesome. An' the kids, too. Gee! they're jest yearnin' an'
yearnin' for you--nigh as bad as me."

He took a step towards her with his arms outstretched. All his soul
was in his mild eyes. And presently Jessie raised her head again. She
stood staring at the wall opposite her. It was as though she dared not
face him. Her eyes were burning, but they were less wild, and a sudden
hope thrilled the man's heart. He hurried on, fearful lest t