f turn me out to-morrow,
and all the four years' accumulations in my laboratory, all my works en
train that demand only a few days or hours to complete, may go to the
second-hand dealer, or be thrown into the street. Of all my
efforts, weary nights, privations, and hopes, there remains only one
souvenir--for me. And yet, if it did not remain, perhaps I should be
less exasperated, and should accept with a heart less sore the life to
which I shall never resign myself. You know very well that I am a rebel,
and do not submit tamely."

She rose, and taking his hand, pressed it closely in her own.

"You must stay in Paris," she said. "Pardon me for having insisted that
you could live in the country. I thought more of myself than of you, of
our love and our marriage. It was an egotistic thought, a bad thought.
A way must be found, no matter what it costs, to enable you to continue
your work."

"But how to find it? Do you think I have not tried everything?"

He related his visits to Jardine, his solicitations, prayers, and also
his request of a loan from Glady, and his visit to Caffie.

"Caffie!" she cried. "What made you think of going to Caffie?"

"I went partly because you had often spoken of him."

"But I spoke of him to you as the most wicked of men, capable of
anything and everything that is bad."

"And partly, also, because I knew from one of my patients that he lends
to those of whom he can make use."

"What did he say to you?"

"That it was probable he would not be able to find any one who would
lend what I wished, but he would try to find some one, and would give
me an answer tomorrow evening. He also promised to protect me from
Jardine."

"You have put yourself in his hands?"

"Well, what do you expect? In my position, I am not at liberty to go to
whom I wish and to those who inspire me with confidence in their honor.
If I should go to a notary or a banker they would not listen to me,
for I should be obliged to tell them, the first thing, that I have no
security to offer. That is how the unfortunate fall into the hands of
rascals; at least, these listen to them, and lend them something, small
though it may be."

"What did he give you?"

"Advice."

"And you took it?"

"There is time gained. To-morrow, perhaps, I shall be turned into the
street. Caffie will obtain a respite."

"And what price will he ask for this service?"

"It is only those who own something who worry about the price."

"You