And it's to ask you if you will do it that I sent for you.

Do you suppose"-- she swallowed, battling with the tremor in her voice--"that I _wanted_ you to see me--as I am now?
It was months--months before I could bring myself to send you the little pearl ring." He stooped and kissed one of the hands he held.
"Dear, foolish woman! You would always be--just Pauline--to me." Her eyes softened suddenly.
"So you never married, after all ?" He straightened his shoulders, meeting her glance squarely--almost sternly.
"Did you imagine that I should ?" he asked quietly.
"No, no, I suppose not." She looked away.

"What a mess I made of things, didn't I?
However, it's all past now; the game's nearly over, thank Heaven! Life, since that day"-- the eyes of the man and woman met again in swift understanding--"has been one long hell." "He--the man you married--" "Made that hell.

I left him after six years of it, taking the child with me." "The child ?" A curious expression came into his eyes, resentful, yet tinged at the same time with an oddly tender interest.

"Was there a child ?" "Yes--I have a little daughter." "And did your husband never trace you ?" he asked, after a pause.
"He never tried to"-- grimly.