"Oh, what a damned fool I was!"

"All gentlemen are," she tried to comfort him. Her generosity made him
blush. Added to his shame because of what he had done to Eleanor, was a
new shame at his own thoughts about this little, kind, bad, honest
woman! "Look here," Lily said; "if you're strapped, never mind about
helping me. They'll take you at the Maternity free, if you _can't_ pay.
So I'll go there; and I'll say I'm married; I'll say my husband was Mr.
George Dale, and he's dead; I'll never peep your name. Now, don't you
worry! I'll keep on at Marston's for four months, anyway. Yes; I'll buy
me a ring and call myself Mrs. Dale; I guess I'll say Mrs. Robert Dale;
Robert's a classier name than George. And nobody can say anything to my
baby."

"Of course I'll give you whatever you need for--when--when it's born,"
he said. He was fumbling with his pocketbook; he had nothing more to say
about leaving Mercer.

She took the money doubtfully. "I won't want it yet awhile," she said.

"I'll make it more if I can," he told her; he got up, hesitated, then
put out his hand. For a single instant, just for her pluck, he was
almost fond of her. "Take care of yourself," he said, huskily; and the
next minute he was plunging down those three flights of unswept stairs
to the street. "My own fault--my own fault," he said, again; "oh, what a
cussed, cussed, cussed fool!"

It was over, this dreadful interview! this looking at the dead face of
his Youth. Over, and he was back again just where he was when he came
in. Nothing settled. Lily--who was so much more generous than he!--would
still be in Mercer, waiting for this terrible child. His child!

He had accomplished nothing, and he saw before him the dismaying
prospect of admitting his failure to Mr. Houghton. The only comfort in
the whole hideous business was that he wouldn't have to pull a lawyer
into it, and pay a big fee! He was frantic with worry about expense.
Well, he must strike Mr. Weston for a raise!... which he wouldn't tell
Eleanor about. A second step into the bog of Secrecy!

When he got home, Eleanor, in the dingy third-floor front, was waiting
for him, alert and tender, and gay with purpose: "Maurice! I've counted
expenses, and I'm sure we can go to housekeeping! And I can have little
Bingo. Mrs. O'Brien says he's just pining away for me!"

"We can't afford it," he said again, doggedly.

"I believe," she said, "you like this horrid place, because you have
people to t