t by me. I want to go to sleep. I want
to forget. Time enough to remember when I'm not sick.... That you, Rose?
Sit by me and hold my hand, there's a dear. If I need anything she'll
call you, doctor. Just leave us alone, will you?"

He clung to the hand, as a child clings to its mother's hand; and there
was a tenderness and trust in the clasp that thrilled the girl to
her heart.

"Say _you_ forgive me, Rose." His voice was wheedling.

She leaned forward and kissed him.

"We got a lot to live down, Rose. Don't say we can't do it. Wait till
I'm up and around, and strong."

He fell asleep, breathing quietly. Two hours later he woke. Rose had not
moved.

"We'll begin," he said, "at once by getting married. I've dreamed it all
out. And we'll set up home in a far place. That is, if _they'll_ give me
a chance. But I've never asked you--Rose, will you marry me?"

"Do you want me?" She leaned forward and rested her cheek against his.

"Do you understand?" he said. "We're beginning all over. You can't undo
things that you've done; but you can start out and do the other kind of
things and strike some sort of a balance--not before man maybe--but in
your own conscience. That's something. I want to talk to Ferris. Call
him, will you, and leave us."

"Doctor, was everything I _was_ bone pressure? Ever get drunk?"

Dr. Ferris nodded gravely. "In extreme youth," he said.

"Well, you know how the next day you remember some of the things you
did, and half remember others, and have the shakes and horrors all
around, and make up your mind you'll never do so and so again? That's
me--at this moment. But the past I'm facing is a million times harder to
face than the average spree. It covers years and years. It's black as
pitch. I don't recall any white places. Everything that the law of man
forbids I've done, and everything that the law of God forbids. I won't
detail. It's enough that I know. Some wrongs I can put finger to and
right; others have gone their way out of reach, out of recovery. Maybe I
don't sound sorry enough? I tell you it takes every ounce of courage
I've got to remember my past, and face it. Was it all bone pressure? Am
I really changed? Am I accountable for what I did? Was it I that did
wicked things right and left, or was it somebody else that did 'em?
Another thing, is the change permanent? Am I a good man now, or am I
having some sort of a fit? Fetch me a hand-glass off the bureau,
will you?"

Blizzard look