ken off soon after his graduation. In fact I feel that I am to a
certain extent responsible for his present condition, for he left
America as soon as he heard of my engagement to Mr. Thatcher."

Huntington looked up quickly. "That gives Hamlen and me another bond of
sympathy," he said quietly.

"What do you mean?" she asked, surprised.

"That same announcement produced disastrous effects upon my life as
well."

"Why, you never saw me half a dozen times--"

"Once was enough," he replied seriously.

"Your imagination is as highly developed as your gallantry, Mr.
Huntington," Marian laughed; "but we mustn't let ourselves become
diverted.--Philip Hamlen was always sensitive and moody, but until I
discovered him down here I had no idea these characteristics could
become so exaggerated."

"He believes himself always to have been misunderstood," Huntington
added. "To-day he felt that we met on common ground, and the gratitude
in his eyes still haunts me."

"Can't we do something for him, between us?" she asked earnestly.

"We must," Huntington assented with decision. "I am still puzzling over
the problem. Have you anything to suggest?"

Mrs. Thatcher did not reply at once, and Huntington respected her
silence. He realized that her answer could not be given spontaneously,
that the proposition was too vital for anything but the most serious
consideration. As a matter of fact, however, she had already considered
it. Marian Thatcher was a woman of strong impulses, with strength of
will equal to carry them through to success. She had been appalled by
Hamlen's condition, and felt keenly her personal responsibility. During
the hours which had intervened since the accidental meeting, many of
them sleepless hours of the night, she had searched her mind for some
expedient which should in part work restitution. She had discovered a
possible solution, but it was of a nature so intimate that she hesitated
to take Huntington into her confidence.

"I had thought--" she began at length, but then she paused. "We must
pull him out of himself," she began again; "we must get him where he
will find something to think of other than himself."

"Suppose that to be accomplished, what then?"

"I had thought--he needs--he needs a woman who believes in him, to give
him courage, to restore his lost faith in himself. A friendship such as
you or any other man can give will help much, but if the right woman
could happen to come into his life-