at and then we'll
see about it."

"No--no," she protested in a terror, which she could not explain even to
herself, "don't come out with me--there's nothing you can do. I came
because I couldn't help myself," she added, smiling; "and I'll go for no
better reason, in a little while."

"Well, I'm ready whenever you say so. If it's to overturn Brooklyn
Bridge, I'll set about it for the asking."

"It isn't anything so serious--there's nothing really I want done," she
answered gayly, though the pain in her eyes stabbed him to the heart,
"all I wanted was to make sure of you--to make sure, I mean, that you
are really here."

"Oh, I'm here all right!" he replied, with energy. She looked at him
steadily for a moment with her excited eyes which had grown darkly
brilliant.

"Do you know what I sometimes think?" she said, breaking into a pathetic
little laugh, "it is that I remind myself of one of those angels who,
after falling out of heaven, could neither get back again nor reconcile
themselves to the things of earth."

Her hand lay on his desk, and while she spoke he bent forward and
touched it an instant with his own. Light as the gesture was, it
possessed a peculiar power of sympathy; and she was conscious as he
looked at her that there was no further need for her to speak, because
he understood, not only all that she had meant to put into words, but
everything that was hidden in her heart as well.

"I can't preach to you, Laura," he said, "but--but--oh, I can't express
even what is in my mind," he added. "I wish I could!"

"It wouldn't help me," she replied, "because although I am not
reconciled with the things of earth I want to be--oh, how I want to be!"

"But you can't be--not you," he said. "You're of that particular fibre
which grows stronger through pain, I think--and, in the end, how much
easier it is to be made all spirit or all clay--it's the combination,
not the pure quantity that hurts."

"I wonder if you ever know what it is?" she rejoined. "Does the earth
ever pull you back when you want to climb?"

His smile faded, and he looked at her again with the sympathy which
accepted, without explanation, not only her outward aspect, but the soul
within. "There's not much in my life that counts for a great deal,
Laura," he said, "but you come in for considerably the larger share of
it. At this moment I am ready to do either of two things, as you may
wish--I am ready to stand aside and let your future settle