"To-night," said Bulstrode, simply.

Waring looked at him curiously.

"What a wonderful man!" he half murmured. "I was led to you by fate:
you have forced me to lay my soul bare to you--and now..."

"Let's look things in the face together," suggested the gentleman,
practically. "I have a ranch out West. A good piece of property.
It's in the hands of a clever Englishman and promises well. How would
you like to go out there and start anew? He'll give you a welcome, and
he's a first-rate business man. Will you go?"

Waring had with his old habit thrust his hands in his pockets. He
stood well on his feet. Bulstrode remarked it. He looked meditatively
down between the soles of his shoes.

"You mean to say you give me a chance--to--to----"

"Begin anew, Waring."

"I drink a great deal," said the young man.

"You will swear off."

"I've gambled away all the money I ever had."

"You will be taking care of mine, and it will be a point of honor."

"I'm under a cloud----

"Not in my eyes," said Bulstrode, stoutly.

"--which I can never clear."

Bulstrode made a dismissing gesture.

"I should want the chap out there to know the truth."

"The truth," caught his hearer, and the other as quickly interrupted:

"To know under what circumstances I left my people."

"No, that is unnecessary," said Bulstrode, firmly. "Nobody has any
right to your past. I don't know his. That's the beauty of the
plains--the freshness of them. It's a new start--a clean page."

Still the guest hesitated.

"I don't believe it's worth while. You see, I've batted about now so
much alone, with nobody near me but the lowest sort; I've given in so
long, with no care to do better, that I haven't any confidence in
myself. I don't want you to see me fail, sir,--I don't want to go back
on you."

Bulstrode had heard very understandingly part of the man's word, part
of his excuse for his weakness.

"That's it," he said, musingly. "Butting about alone. It's
that--loneliness--that's responsible for so many things."

Looking up brightly as his friend whose derelict dangerous vessel, so
near to port and repair, was heading for the wide seas again, Bulstrode
wondered: "If such a thing could be that some friend, not too
uncongenial, could be found to go with you and stand as it were by
you--some friend who knew--who comprehended----"

Waring laughed. "I haven't such a one."

"Yes," said the older gentleman, "you have, and he wi