in time what it will be. She has begun
earlier than I had supposed, that is all; but she is nothing to me."
The man stopped and turned his back to Van Bibber, and hid his head in
his hands, with his elbows on the mantelpiece. "I care too much," he
said. "I cannot let it mean anything to me; when I do care, it means
so much more to me than to other men. They may pretend to laugh and to
forget and to outgrow it, but it is not so with me. It means too
much." He took a quick stride towards one of the arm-chairs, and threw
himself into it. "Why, man," he cried, "I loved that child's mother to
the day of her death. I loved that woman then, and, God help me! I
love that woman still."

He covered his face with his hands, and sat leaning forward and
breathing heavily as he rocked himself to and fro. Van Bibber still
stood looking gravely out at the lights that picketed the black surface
of the city. He was to all appearances as unmoved by the outburst of
feeling into which the older man had been surprised as though it had
been something in a play. There was an unbroken silence for a moment,
and then it was Van Bibber who was the first to speak.

"I came here, as you say, on impulse," he said; "but I am glad I came,
for I have your decisive answer now about the little girl. I have been
thinking," he continued, slowly, "since you have been speaking, and
before, when I first saw her dancing in front of the footlights, when I
did not know who she was, that I could give up a horse or two, if
necessary, and support this child instead. Children are worth more
than horses, and a man who saves a soul, as it says"--he flushed
slightly, and looked up with a hesitating, deprecatory
smile--"somewhere, wipes out a multitude of sins. And it may be I'd
like to try and get rid of some of mine. I know just where to send
her; I know the very place. It's down in Evergreen Bay, on Long
Island. They are tenants of mine there, and very nice farm sort of
people, who will be very good to her. They wouldn't know anything
about her, and she'd forget what little she knows of this present life
very soon, and grow up with the other children to be one of them; and
then, when she gets older and becomes a young lady, she could go to
some school--but that's a bit too far ahead to plan for the present;
but that's what I am going to do, though," said the young man,
confidently, and as though speaking to himself. "That theatrical
boarding-hou