own way to end the
suffering of that unhappy old man, I have no word of condemnation for him.
He did the humane thing."

George remained seated, watching her with perplexed, dubious eyes. It was
a matter that deserved mental concentration. He could best achieve this by
abstaining from physical indulgence. Here was his sister, the wife of the
dead man, actually condoning an act that was almost certain to be
professionally excoriated,--behind the hand, so to say,--even though there
was no one to contend that a criminal responsibility should be put upon
Braden Thorpe. He was, for the moment, capable of forgetting his own
troubles in considering the peril that attended Anne.

"Oh, I say, Anne, you'll have to be careful what you say. It's all right
to say it to me, but for heaven's sake don't go telling these things to
other people." He was serious, desperately serious. "No one will
understand. No one will see it as you do. There has been a lot of talk
about Brady's views and all that. People are not very charitable toward
him. They stick to the idea that God ought to do such jobs as Brady
advocates, and I don't know but they are right. So now you just keep your
mouth closed about all this. It is Braden's affair, it's his lookout, not
yours. The least said, the better, take it from me. You--"

"We will talk of something else, George, if you don't mind," she said,
relaxing suddenly. She sat down beside him once more, rather limply and
with a deep, long-drawn sigh, as if she had spent herself in this single
exposition of feeling. "Now what do you intend to do in regard to Lutie?
Are you ready to straighten up and make the effort to--to be something
creditable to yourself and to her?"

"Oh, I've tried to hold down a good many respectable jobs," he scoffed.
"It's no good trying. I'm too busy thinking of her to be able to devote
much of my remarkable intelligence to ordinary work."

"Well, you've never had me behind you till now," she said. "I am perfectly
able to think for you, if you'll let me. Simmy Dodge is interested in you.
He can get you a berth somewhere. It may be a humble one, but it will lead
to something better. You are not a drunkard, you are not a loafer. Now, I
will tell you what I intend to do. If, at the end of a year, you can show
me that you--"

"Hold on! You are not thinking of offering me money, are you?" he
demanded, flushing angrily.

Her eyes brightened. "You would not accept it?"

"No," he said