ellie. Do you----"

"Ned!" she interrupted, evidently forcing herself to speak. "It's no use.
I'll tell you why it's not."

"There can be no reason."

"There is a reason. Nobody knows but me. When I have said I would never
marry people think it is a whim. Perhaps it is, but I have a reason that I
thought never to tell anyone. I only tell you so that you may understand
and we may still be friends, true friends."

"Go on! I'll convince you that it doesn't mean what you think it does,
this reason, whatever it is."

"Ned! Be reasonable!" She hesitated. She looked up and down the street.
Nothing moved. The moon was directly overhead. There were no shadows. It
was like day. An engine whistle sounded like a long wail in the distance.
In the silence that followed they could hear the rushing of a train. Ned
waited, watching her pain-drawn face. A passionate fear assailed him,
blotting out his wrath.

"You recollect my sister?" she asked, looking away from him.

He nodded.

"You heard she died? You spoke of her two years ago."

He nodded again.

"I did not tell you the whole truth then . . . . . . I did not tell
anybody . . . . . . I came down here so as not to tell . . . . . . I
could not bear to go home, to chance any of them coming down to Brisbane
and seeing me . . . . . . You know." She stopped. He could see her hands
wringing, a hunted look in the eyes that would not meet his.

"Never mind telling me, Nellie," he said, a great pity moving him. "I'm a
brute. I didn't mean to be selfish but I love you so. It shall be as you
say. I don't want to know anything that pains you to tell."

"That is your own self again, Ned," she answered, looking at him, smiling
sadly, a love in her face that struck him with a bitter joy. "But you
have a right. I must tell you for my own sake. Only, I can't begin." Her
mouth trembled. Great tears gathered in her eyes and rolled down her
cheeks. A lump rose in his throat. He seized her hands and lifted them
reverently to his lips. He could not think of a word to say to comfort
her.

"Ned!" she said, in a tone almost inaudible, looking at him through her
tears. "She died in the hospital but I didn't tell you how. . . . . She
died, oh, a terrible death . . . . . . She had gone . . . . . down, Ned.
Right down. Down to the streets, Ned."

He pressed her hands, speechless. They stood thus facing one another,
till down his face, too, the sad tears rained in sympathy, sad tears that
mourn