begin
to prepare now. Hard articles they must be, that broke heads or hearts,
implied faiths, too, and did not care. And in the young man's ears there
rang, and would not cease, the cry of a girl in great sorrow: "You've
never meant anything but trouble to me since the first minute I saw
you."... And again, in another voice: "I really didn't mean to do
anything so bad."...

As if he hadn't known that....

He was alone in the world, and by that token he was a lonely man. He
had no mother or brother or sisters. He had no wife or children.... No,
nor would have this side the undiscovered country....

Abruptly the young man rose from his seat at the secretary; stood,
pushing back his hair. Twenty-seven years old he was, a lame slum doctor
in a fire-new suit of Prince serge, lately bought cheap at a sale; but
he had a face that people sometimes turned to look at in the street.

And he spoke aloud, in a voice that might have sounded queer if there
had been anybody to hear it:

"Don't I know they're doing the best they can, all the time? Seems to me
I've had that proved ... Give 'em a chance, and _they're all good_...."

* * * * *

Far in the stillness there sounded the sweet mad voice of the Garlands'
clock. It struck seven, and then two, and then fell silent. V. Vivian
glanced at his watch. It seemed to be quarter to twelve, though he did
not see how that was possible. He opened his office door, and stood
listening. Presently he stepped through; went walking without noise down
the long hall, which was pitch-black but for a dim haze of light just
perceptible at its extreme farther end. When he came to this small
patch, the young man lifted the curtain, and stood motionless.

A single gaslight burned in the sick-room, shaded with a green globe and
turned down very low. The electric fan was silent, and the faint
fever-smell was in the air. In the nearer white bed the nurse slept,
with light snores. In the other, Kern Garland slept, lying almost at the
bed's edge. One of her arms had wandered from the covers; the small hand
was curled about the polished leg of Writing-Desk, which was squeezed as
close to the bed as it would go.

Vivian went in on silent feet. Presently he sat down in his accustomed
chair on the farther side of the bed. He stared fixedly at the small
flushed face, which looked more elfin than ever now that the flesh was
wasting away....

What demerit had this little girl