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Le Moyne came late to his midday meal. For once, the mental anaesthesia

of endless figures had failed him. On his way home he had drawn his small

savings from the bank, and mailed them, in cash and registered, to a back

street in the slums of a distant city. He had done this before, and always

with a feeling of exaltation, as if, for a time at least, the burden he

carried was lightened. But to-day he experienced no compensatory relief.

Life was dull and stale to him, effort ineffectual. At thirty a man should

look back with tenderness, forward with hope. K. Le Moyne dared not look

back, and had no desire to look ahead into empty years.

Although he ate little, the dining-room was empty when he finished.

Usually he had some cheerful banter for Tillie, to which she responded in

kind. But, what with the heat and with heaviness of spirit, he did not

notice her depression until he rose.

"Why, you're not sick, are you, Tillie?"

"Me? Oh, no. Low in my mind, I guess."

"It's the heat. It's fearful. Look here. If I send you two tickets to a

roof garden where there's a variety show, can't you take a friend and go

to-night?"

"Thanks; I guess I'll not go out."

Then, unexpectedly, she bent her head against a chair-back and fell to

silent crying. K. let her cry for a moment. Then:-"Now--tell me about it."

"I'm just worried; that's all."

"Let's see if we can't fix up the worries. Come, now, out with them!"

"I'm a wicked woman, Mr. Le Moyne."

"Then I'm the person to tell it to. I--I'm pretty much a lost soul

myself."

He put an arm over her shoulders and drew her up, facing him.

"Suppose we go into the parlor and talk it out. I'll bet things are not as

bad as you imagine."

But when, in the parlor that had seen Mr. Schwitter's strange proposal of

the morning, Tillie poured out her story, K.'s face grew grave.

"The wicked part is that I want to go with him," she finished. "I keep

thinking about being out in the country, and him coming into supper, and

everything nice for him and me cleaned up and waiting--O my God! I've

always been a good woman until now."

"I--I understand a great deal better than you think I do. You're not

wicked. The only thing is--"

"Go on. Hit me with it."