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 out his life in tears and sorrow? The thought of it stayed him from offering the formal consolations of religion to the woman before him. To do so would have seemed the right thing to him before that night—after listening to Elisabeth's story it appeared futile, even unfitting. And so he stood there watching her and could think of nothing to say.

Elisabeth rose at last and turned to Hepworth.

"It was kind of you, sir," she said, "to listen to what I've had to tell you. I think it's done me good—it's hard to carry secrets like that about, and you're the first person to hear of mine. Perhaps—"

She paused and looked at him doubtfully.

"What is it, Elisabeth?" he asked.

"I thought, sir, that perhaps, now you know my story, you—you wouldn't care—"

"I don't know what you mean," he said, looking at her in some astonishment. "I mean that you may not like me to stay here," she said.