little a man himself amounts to, and how
great and noble his heart and soul may be. And that passion passed away,
so that I no longer thought of her, but always I grew hot and angry at
myself, when I remembered you. I've seen you before me a good many
times, yes, even in that hospital they took me to, a few weeks ago,
during the nights when I couldn't sleep. It was a great vision of a fine
woman, big-hearted and strong, too good for such a cad as I. No, don't
interrupt! I felt that it was fortunate for you, the best thing that
ever happened, that I had shown myself to you under my true colors and
saved you--saved you from marrying me. That madness has gone long ago,
and there's no trace of it left in me, I swear, but I'm the same
impossible Gordon, I daresay, except for that missing hand."

He slowly brought the maimed limb forward, but she never looked at it.
Her eyes were upon his, very shiny with unshed tears.

"Yes, the same old Gordon, with perhaps a little of his silly pose gone,
with a realization of his uselessness and worthlessness. And now I
humbly beg your pardon, Sophia--I mean Miss Van Rossum, for I have
forfeited every title to your forbearance--I no longer deserve it.
And--and now I stand before you with my soul naked and ashamed, and--and
Dave will see you to the door, for--for he's a good man, fit to touch
any woman's hand!"

His legs seemed to weaken under him. His left hand sought the
window-ledge behind him, and he sank on the seat beneath. She rose from
the stool and went to him, sitting down at his side, and put her hand on
his right arm.

"You have been very unhappy, Gordon," she said gently. "I am not sure
that you have the right perspective as yet, and I don't see in all this
anything to prevent our remaining good friends. We've had so many of the
good things of life, you and I, and, perhaps, it is good for one to pay
for them with a little sorrow. It may prevent one from getting too
conceited. And you're so much better off than if this--this hurt had
come just in wrecking a motor, or in being stepped on by a polo pony,
because you will always realize that it happened while you were giving
the best of yourself towards helping others, towards doing big things.
And perhaps, some day, you might be able to paint again. They--they make
such wonderful artificial things, I have heard, with aluminum and--and
stuff that's ever so light. It might take you a whole year of practice
before you could do a