ollar. "One way and
another I owe you a great deal. I shan't forget that. I shan't forget
you. I'll remember that I came here--to prison, I thought--and found
some good friends. One very good friend who--"

"Don't!" The little hand lying on the desk clenched tightly. "Don't
talk about it. I--" She got slowly down from the stool. "I must be
going now."

But her eyes did not leave his. They went suddenly dark. And in them
he read the same hurt that was in his own heart. He saw with a fierce
blinding joy--then with horror--and then with joy again.

"Esther! You, too! Oh, I never wanted that. I hoped you-- Oh,
Esther!"

She gave him no answer but stood looking at him piteously. No one,
seeing them, could have failed to understand. The man who had come to
the door saw and understood.

It was Jonathan.

They saw him. No word passed then; there was nothing to say. She
moved slowly out of the room by another door, the men, both as if in a
daze, following her with their eyes. When her footsteps had died away,
they looked at each other helplessly.

"David!" Jonathan's voice broke like a boy's. "David! What have you
done?"

After a little that cry reached David's understanding. "I never
knew--" He turned away from the stricken accusing face.

He heard Jonathan start away at last, then turn and come toward him. A
letter was laid on the desk.

"I was bringing this to you," said Jonathan's choking voice. And
again, "David! David!"

That time Jonathan did not return.

Mechanically David took up and opened the letter. He had to read it
twice before he grasped its import.

"The committee of St. Mark's has selected your plans. . . . We shall
want you to supervise the work . . . usual terms . . . congratulations."

The letter fluttered from his hands to the floor, St. Mark's from his
mind.

So he was not to have even the consolation of knowing that no one but
himself had been hurt. It would be on his soul that he had hurt her,
too--cruelly, hopelessly hurt her. And he could not help her, only run
away and leave her to face it alone. And Jonathan, his kind
friend--the meaning of the grief on that homely face was plain.

The cup of David's misery ran over. He fell forward on the desk, her
desk, pillowing his head on his arms.

"Esther!"

As if summoned by the cry, another little imp took stand by David's
ear. And his tongue was specious and honeyed, and he had the trick of
makin