tly enough: "I came
straight to you, of course! Who had a better right! Have you forgotten
so soon that you are my wife?"

She held out her bare left hand.

"I sent your ring back. I am sorry I ever married you. It's all over and
done with."

He took but little notice of her words. He knew that she was overwrought
and broken-hearted, and that it was no time now to press his claim.

The twins began to rouse, and sat up, two rosy-cheeked youngsters with
eyes still drowsy with sleep, but which opened widely enough at sight of
the stranger.

"Is it teatime?" was their first demand, regardless of the fact that
they had had their tea hours ago, and Forrester answered that supper was
ready downstairs. Would they like to be carried?

They made a wild rush at him immediately, but Faith was too quick for
him. She put her arms round both the children, and looked at him across
their tousled heads with defensive eyes.

"They're all I've got in the world," she said hoarsely. "You can't have
them, too."

The Beggar Man did not answer. He followed them down the stairs to the
sitting-room, where the kindly neighbour had made more tea, more for
something to do than for any other reason, but the twins consumed slice
after slice of bread and jam uncomplainingly, and regarded the Beggar
Man with eyes of smiling interest.

"Do you like chocolates?" he inquired when the meal was ended. "Well,
run along to a shop and buy some." He gave them half a crown, and
bundled them out of the room amid shrieks of delight, then he shut the
door and went back to where Faith sat by the window, her listless eyes
on the sunbaked street.

He stood beside her silently for a moment. Then he asked gently:

"How soon can you be ready to leave this house--to-morrow?"

She looked up.

"I don't know what you mean. I am never going to leave it. I shall stay
here and work for the twins, as mother did."

Her voice faltered a little as she spoke that beloved name, but no
tears came, and Forrester said patiently:

"You cannot stay here. It's impossible. You must let me see to things
for you. I promise you that everything shall be done exactly as you
wish." He waited, but she did not speak, and he said again with a touch
of impatience in his voice:

"Faith, you are angry with me. What have I done?"

She temporized, with the feeling that as yet she could not bring herself
to say all that she knew she meant to say sooner or later.

"You never wrote to