say?"

"Say! she said nothing. She just looked at me. Her face was cold as ice.
She looked at me as if she wanted to _pity_ me. Then into her eyes there
came a shadow of bitterness, of bitterness and despair such as might
gloom the eyes of a lost soul. It unnerved me. It seemed as if she was
regarding me almost with horror, as if I were a sort of a leper. As I
stood there, I thought she was going to faint. She seemed to sway a
moment. Then she drew a great, gasping breath, and turning on her heel
she was gone."

"She cut you?"

"Yes, cut me dead, old fellow. And my only thought was of love for her,
eternal love. But I'll never forget the look on her face as she turned
away. It was as if I had lashed her with a whip. My God!"

"And you've never seen her since?"

"No, never. That was enough, wasn't it? She didn't want to speak to me
any more, never wanted to set eyes on me any more. I went back to the
ward; then, in a little, I came on here. My body was living, but my
heart was dead. It will never live again."

"Oh, rot! You mustn't let the thing down you like that. It's going to
kill you in the end. Buck up! Be a man! If you don't care to live for
yourself, live for others. Anyway, it's likely all for the best. Maybe
love had you locoed. Maybe she wasn't really good. See now how she lives
openly with Locasto. They call her the Madonna; they say she looks more
like a virgin-martyr than the mistress of a dissolute man."

I rose and looked at him, conscious that my face was all twisted with
the pain of the thought.

"Look here," I said, "never did God put the breath of life into a better
girl. There's been foul play. I know that girl better than any one in
the world, and if every living being were to tell me she wasn't good I
would tell them they lied, they lied. I would burn at the stake
upholding that girl."

"Then why did she turn you down so cruelly?"

"I don't know; I can't understand it. I know so little about women. I
have not wavered a moment. To-day in my loneliness and heartbreak I
care and hunger for her more than ever. She's always here, right here in
my head, and no power can drive her out. Let them say of her what they
will, I would marry her to-morrow. It's killing me. I've aged ten years
in the last few months. Oh, if I only could forget."

He looked at me thoughtfully.

"I say, old man, do you ever hear from your old lady?"

"Every mail."

"You've often told me of your home. Say! just give