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him. 'It's no use,' he said, 'I cannot sleep.' The mother was allowed to peep into the heart of the suffering son by the story she brought out, little by little.

"But even then he would not tell the girl's name, and then you remember the scene in the church and while the organ pealed; how the sob broke from his throat and the tears gushed from his eyes, and how when his mother asked him why he had sobbed he answered, 'But for him she might have been with us today.'

"That was the condition of his mind; that one thing was ever in his mind.

"He could not, he would not forget—great, courageous, indomitable man, who believes he has a mission to fulfill, to make one more effort to rescue her from the hands of vice into which Stanford White had lured her. He came back to New York and met her in a drug store, where the artificial means were found to supply the beauty she possessed, and he said: 'Oh, these things are not for you.' And you remember how, afterward, they met as mere acquaintances in the street and passed the time of day.

"Here again no words of mine could supply the picture that is furnished by the words of the wife herself as they fell from her lips on the stand. She says that when they met at the Cafe Beaux Arts: 'I said I was going to a play, and Mr. Thaw said I looked badly and wished I would not go to the play. He would pay me my salary I would lose—that he would send it through a third party. He begged me merely for the sake of my health not to go to the theater.

"'But I said that I would go; that I had no other means of livelihood.' You remember they met a couple of days afterward and he asked her to tell him of the stories that had been told about him. 'I told him then,' she said, 'all they had said about him and that he was addicted to