moved impatiently. "But, I tell you, I couldn't get rid of her. I
couldn't shake her off--or pay her off--or do any of the usual things.
It was agreed between us before I married you--_long_ before I married
you--that everything was at an end. But, poor soul, she doesn't know
what an agreement is. There's something lacking in her. She's always
been like a child, and of late years she's been more so. If you knew her
as I do you'd be sorry for her."

"Oh, I _am_ sorry for her. Her whole mind is ravaged by suffering."

"I know it's my fault; but it isn't wholly or even chiefly my fault. A
woman like that has no right to suffer. She lost the privilege of
suffering when she became what she is. At any rate, she has no right to
haunt like a shadow the man who's befriended her--"

"But, I presume, she's befriended _him_. And--and continues to befriend
him--since that's the word."

He avoided her eyes, looking up the street and whistling tunelessly
beneath his breath.

"I said--_continues_ to befriend him," she repeated.

The tuneless whistling went on. She allowed him time to get the full
effect of her meaning. As far as she could see her way, her line of
action depended on his response. When he dodged the question she knew
what she would have to do.

"Look here, Edith," he said, at last, "the long and short of it is this.
She's on my hands--and I can't abandon her. I must see that she's
provided for, at the very least. Hang it all, she's--she's attached to
me; has been attached to me for more than ten years. I can't ignore
that; now, can I? And she's helpless. How can I desert her? I can't do
it, any more than I could desert a poor old faithful dog--or a baby. Can
I, now?"

"No; I dare say not."

"But I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll undertake never to see her
again--of my own free will. I'll give you my word of honor--"

She shook her head. "Oh, I'm not asking for that."

"Then what do you ask for? Just tell me, and whatever it is--"

"It's that, since you can't abandon her, you abandon me."

"_What_?"

She repeated the words more firmly.

"_Never_."

"Then I'm afraid it will be for me to abandon you." She gave him a
little nod. "Good-by."

She had turned and taken a step or two along the pavement before his
astonishment allowed him to overtake her.

"Edith, for God's sake, what do you mean? You're not crazy, are you?"

"Quite possibly I am; I can't tell yet. Or perhaps I _can_ tell. It's
like this,"