"Merciful God, how young she is!--What is that you say ?" sharply, seeing Margret's lips move.
"'He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her.'" "Ah, child, that is old-time philosophy.

Put your hand here, on her dead face.

Is your loss like hers ?" he said lower, looking into the dull pain in her eyes.

Selfish pain he called it.
"Let me go," she said.

"I am tired." He took her out into the cool, open road, leading her tenderly enough,--for the girl suffered, he saw.
"What will you do ?" he asked her then.