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 a woman in this world. And now, as I can't be either husband or lover, let me be your friend, Elisabeth. Let me help you if I can. Will you?"

"Yes," she said. "I will. Why shouldn't I? There's no one else. You're all the friend I have."

"Good-night, Elisabeth," he said.

"Good-night, Mr. Hepworth," she answered.

He released her hand and she turned away. At the door she stopped and looked at him.

"I am grateful," she said, "and I wish—I wish for your sake that—that I could do what you wish,"

Then she disappeared and Hepworth was alone. He sat down by the dying fire and thought. Usually he smoked a pipe of tobacco before going to bed, but that night he forgot it and sat staring listlessly at the red ashes. It seemed to him that years had gone by since he said good-night to the last of his rustic guests. The last hour had seemed like years, and he felt, with a dim,