o just
happens not to love them?"

"I don't believe they do. It would be much better for them if they
could. As a matter of fact, there are poor devils who go through life
trying to do that very thing, and failing."

Sidney's eyes were on the tall house across. It was Dr. Ed's evening
office hour, and through the open window she could see a line of people
waiting their turn. They sat immobile, inert, doggedly patient, until
the opening of the back office door promoted them all one chair toward
the consulting-room.

"I shall be just across the Street," she said at last. "Nearer than I am
at the hospital."

"You will be much farther away. You will be married."

"But we will still be friends, K.?"

Her voice was anxious, a little puzzled. She was often puzzled with him.

"Of course."

But, after another silence, he astounded her. She had fallen into the
way of thinking of him as always belonging to the house, even, in a
sense, belonging to her. And now--

"Shall you mind very much if I tell you that I am thinking of going
away?"

"K.!"

"My dear child, you do not need a roomer here any more. I have always
received infinitely more than I have paid for, even in the small
services I have been able to render. Your Aunt Harriet is prosperous.
You are away, and some day you are going to be married. Don't you see--I
am not needed?"

"That does not mean you are not wanted."

"I shall not go far. I'll always be near enough, so that I can see
you"--he changed this hastily--"so that we can still meet and talk
things over. Old friends ought to be like that, not too near, but to be
turned on when needed, like a tap."

"Where will you go?"

"The Rosenfelds are rather in straits. I thought of helping them to get
a small house somewhere and of taking a room with them. It's largely a
matter of furniture. If they could furnish it even plainly, it could be
done. I--haven't saved anything."

"Do you ever think of yourself?" she cried. "Have you always gone
through life helping people, K.? Save anything! I should think not! You
spend it all on others." She bent over and put her hand on his shoulder.
"It will not be home without you, K."

To save him, he could not have spoken just then. A riot of rebellion
surged up in him, that he must let this best thing in his life go out
of it. To go empty of heart through the rest of his days, while his very
arms ached to hold her! And she was so near--just above, with her hand
on