rture, came in contact
with the table and bowed his head upon it. For many seconds his
breathing, thick and short, almost convulsed, was the only sound in
the room.

As for Daisy, she sat still, staring at him dumbly, witnessing his
agony till the sight of it became more than she could bear. Then she
moved, reached stiffly forward, and touched him.

"You are not to blame yourself, Nick," she said.

He did not stir. "I don't," he answered, and again fell silent.

At last he moved, seemed to pull himself together, finally got to his
feet.

"Do you think you will be happy?" he said. "Do you think you will
ever manage to forget what you have sacrificed to this fetish you
call Love,--how you broke the heart of one of the best fellows in the
world, and trampled upon the memory of your dead child--the little
chap you used to call the light of your eyes, who used to hold out his
arms directly he saw you and cry when you went away?"

His voice was not very steady, and he paused but he did not look at
her or seem to expect any reply.

Daisy gave a great shiver. She felt cold from head to foot. But she
was not afraid of Nick. If she yielded, it would not be through fear.

A full minute crawled away before he spoke again. "And this fellow
Grange," he said then. "He is a man who values his honour. He has
lived a clean life. He holds an unblemished record. He is in your
hands. You can do what you like with him--whatever your love inspires
you to do. You can pull him back into a straight course, or you can
wreck him for good and all. Which is it going to be, I wonder? It's a
sacrifice either way,--a sacrifice to Love or a sacrifice to devils.
You can make it which you will. But if it is to be the last, never
talk of Love again. For Love--real Love--is the safeguard from all
evil. And if you can do this thing, it has never been above your
horizon, and never will be."

Again he stopped, and again there was silence while Daisy sat
white-faced and slightly bowed, wondering when it would be over,
wondering how much longer she could possibly endure.

And then suddenly he bent down over her. His hand was on her shoulder.
"Daisy," he said, and voice and touch alike implored her, "give him
up, dear! Give him up! You can do it if you will, if your love is
great enough. I know how infernally hard it is to do. I've done it
myself. It means tearing your very heart out. But it will be worth
it--it must be worth it--afterwards. You are