bout bringing shame and disgrace on his head and mine--and all sorts of
wild nonsense. When I asked what he meant by disgrace he could not tell
me. Of course he couldn't."

That was true, of course he could not tell. Mary knew, and she realized
once more the tortures which the man must have suffered, must be
suffering at that moment.

"So at last we parted," said Crawford. "I left word--left a letter
saying that, so far as I could see, it was best that I went away. We
could not agree apparently, he and I, upon the one point which, as I
saw it, was the most important decision of my life. And I had made that
decision. I told him how much I hated to leave him; that I loved him as
much as I ever did. 'But,' I said, 'I shall not give up my happiness and
my future merely to gratify your unreasonable whim.' Then I came away
and started East to you."

He paused, evidently expecting Mary to make some comment or ask a
question, but she was silent. After a moment he went on.

"I haven't made any definite plans as yet," he said. "I have another
year at the Medical School--or should have it. I am hoping that I may
be able to go back to the Harvard Med. here in Boston and work my
way through. Other chaps have done it and I'm sure I can. And after
that--well, after that I must take my chance at finding a location and
a practice, like any other young M.D. But first of all, Mary, I want
you to tell me that you will wait for me. It's a lot to ask; I know how
much. But will you, Mary dear? That's what I've come here for--to get
you to say that you will. After that I can face anything--yes, and win
out, too."

Mary looked at him. His face was aglow with earnestness and his voice
shook as he finished speaking. He rose and held out his hands.

"Will you, Mary?" he begged.

She looked at him no longer. She was afraid to do so--afraid of her own
weakness. But no sign of that weakness showed itself in her tone as she
answered.

"I'm sorry, Crawford," she said, gently. "I wish I could, but I can't."

"Can't! Can't wait for me?"

"I could wait for you, it isn't that. If it were merely a question of
waiting--if that were all--how easy it would be! But it isn't. Crawford,
you must go back to your father. You must go back to him and forget all
about me. You must."

He stared at her for a moment. Then he laughed.

"Forget you!" he repeated. "Mary, are you--"

"Oh, please, Crawford! Don't make this any harder for both of us than it
ha