.

"He's no beggar. You hurt him," Andy had whispered, pushing back her
hand. Some women had no sense, if they were ladies. Ann Mipps would
never have done that!

Starke drew out a tattered leather purse: there was a dime in it, which
Andy took. He lighted his lantern, and followed Starke out of the house,
noticing how the Doctor hesitated before he closed the door after them.
They stood a moment on the pavement; the rain was dark and drenching,
with sudden gusts of wind coming down the street. The machinist stood,
his old cap stuck on the back of his head, his arms fallen nerveless at
his sides, hair and coat and trousers flapping and wet: the very picture
of a man whom the world had tried, and in whom it had found no possible
savor of use but to be trodden under foot of men.

"God help him!" thought Andy, "he's far gone! He don't even button an'
unbutton his coat as allus."

But he asked no questions, excepting where should he take _it_. Some
young men came up, three abreast; Starke drew humbly out of their way
before he replied.

"I--I do not know, Andrew. But I'd rather not see it again. You"--

His voice went down into a low mumbling, and he turned and went slowly
off up the street. Andy stood puzzled a moment, then hurried after him.

"Let me go home with you."

"What use, boy?"

"To-morrow, then?"

Starke said nothing, thrust his hands into his pockets, his head falling
on his breast with an unchanged vacancy of expression. Andy looked after
him, coughing, gazing about him uncertainly.

"He's clean given up! What kin _I_ do?"

Then overtook him again, forcing the lantern into his hand,--not without
a gulp for breath.

"Here! take this! I like to. It's yours now, Mr. Starke, d' y'
understand? Yours. But you'll take care of it, won't you?"

"I do not need anything, my good boy. Let me go."

But Andy held on desperately to his coat.

"Come home. _She's_ there. Maybe I ought not to say it. It's Jane. For
God's sake, come to Jane!"

It was so dark that Andy could not see the expression of the man's face
when he heard this. Starke did not speak for some minutes; when he did,
his voice was firm and conscious, as it had not been before to-night.

"Let go my coat, Andrew; I feel choking. You know my wife, then?"

"Yes, this many a year. She's waited for you. Come home. Come!"

But Starke drew his arm away.

"Tell her I would have gone, if I had succeeded. But not now. I'm tired,
I'm going to res