putting his hand
familiarly on Beverly's shoulder, and calling her "old girl."

He wandered into the small room to the right of the hall, where in other
days he had waited to be taken upstairs, and stood looking out of the
window. He heard some one, a caller, come down, get into his overcoat
in the hall and go out, but he was not interested. He did not know
that Leslie Ward had stood outside the door for a minute, had seen and
recognized him, and had then slammed out.

He was quite steady as the butler preceded him up the stairs. He even
noticed certain changes in the house, the door at the landing converted
into an arch, leaded glass in the dining-room windows beyond it. But
he caught a glimpse of himself in a mirror, and saw himself a shabby
contrast to the former days.

He faced her, still with that unexpected composure, and he saw her very
little changed. Even the movement with which she came toward him with
both hands out was familiar.

"Jud!" she said. "Oh, my dear!"

He saw that she was profoundly moved, and suddenly he was sorry for her.
Sorry for the years behind them both, for the burden she had carried,
for the tears in her eyes.

"Dear old Bev!" he said.

She put her head against his shoulder, and cried unrestrainedly; and
he held her there, saying small, gentle, soothing things, smoothing her
hair. But all the time he knew that life had been playing him another
trick; he felt a great tenderness for her and profound pity, but he
did not love her, or want her. He saw that after all the suffering
and waiting, the death and exile, he was left at the end with nothing.
Nothing at all.

When she was restored to a sort of tense composure he found to his
discomfort that woman-like she intended to abase herself thoroughly and
completely. She implored his forgiveness for his long exile, gazing at
him humbly, and when he said in a matter-of-fact tone that he had been
happy, giving him a look which showed that she thought he was lying to
save her unhappiness.

"You are trying to make it easier for me. But I know, Jud."

"I'm telling you the truth," he said, patiently. "There's one point I
didn't think necessary to tell your brother. For a good while I didn't
remember anything about it. If it hadn't been for that-well, I don't
know. Anyhow, don't look at me as though I willfully saved you. I
didn't."

She sat still, pondering that, and twisting a ring on her finger.

"What do you mean to do?" she asked, a