the neck and kick me out into the gutter where I
belong. Well, kick me. You know as well as I do, that I can't
kick back."

"You hurt me very much," said Dr. Ferris simply, "if that is any
pleasure to you."

"It is," said Blizzard.

"What your intuition has told you," continued Barbara's father, "is the
truth. I had made up my mind to interfere."

"Well, why should you?"

"I have heard terrible things about you, Mr. Blizzard."

"That I have done things which the world regards as terrible is true,"
returned the legless man imperturbably. "What of it? Haven't you?"

Dr. Ferris turned away and slowly paced the length of the studio and
back. "I owe you," he then said, "anything you choose to ask. But that
is not the whole of my obligation to this world as I see it."

"You will oblige me," said Blizzard, "by spitting out the moral homily
into which you are trying to get your teeth. It is very simple. I do not
wish to be sent away. I ask you not to send me. If your statement that
you owe me anything I choose to ask amounts to two pins' worth, I think
that I shall continue to pose for your daughter as long as she
needs me."

"Oh, I'm quite helpless," said Dr. Ferris; "I realize that."

"Spoken like a man," said Blizzard. "And to show that my nature isn't
entirely cruel, I'll tell you for your comfort that in Miss Barbara's
presence the bad man is a very decent sort. We are almost friends,
Doctor, she and I. She talks to me as if I were her equal. As for me, in
this studio I have learned the habit of innocent thought. Only yesterday
I took pleasure in the idea that in the world there are birds, and
flowers, and green fields."

The beggar's eyes glittered with a sardonic look. He watched the surgeon
as a tiger might watch a stag. There was quite a long silence. Dr.
Ferris broke it.

"For God's sake," he said with great energy, "tell me one truth. Is it
part of your scheme of life to revenge yourself on me through my
daughter?"

Blizzard raised a soothing hand. "Dr. Ferris," he said, "what would
cause you suffering would cause her suffering. So, you see, I am tied
hand and--Pardon me! I shouldn't now think of hurting you through her
unless it might be for her own happiness."

"I don't understand."

"Then you don't understand the hearts of women. Then you know nothing of
the heights to which even fallen men can raise their eyes."

"What are you telling me?"

"Very little--very much. Perhaps I love your daug