The things that hung on it were very simple.

Many of them evidently were of home-manufacture--knots of ribbon, little garments, second-hand books, even home-made toys.
A small pile of similar articles lay on the floor, where they had been placed ready for service and had been left by the tree-dressers on their hasty departure.
Clark's eye followed instinctively that of the visitor.
"My wife has been dressing a tree for the children," he said simply.
He faced Livingstone and offered him a chair.

He stiffened as he did so.
He was evidently prepared for the worst.
Livingstone sat down.

It was an awkward moment.

Livingstone broke the ice.
"Mr.Clark, I have come to ask you a favor--a great favor--" Clark's eyes opened wide and his lips even parted slightly in his astonishment.
"-- I want you to lend me your little girl--the little girl I saw in the office this afternoon." Clark's expression was so puzzled that Livingstone thought he had not understood him.
"'The Princess with the Golden Locks,'" he explained.
"Mr.Livingstone!--I--I don't understand." He looked dazed.
Livingstone broke out suddenly: "Clark, I have been a brute, a cursed brute!" "Oh! Mr.Liv--!" With a gesture of sharp dissent Livingstone cut him short.
"It is no use to deny it, Clark,--I have--I have!--I have been a brute for years and I have just awakened to the fact!" He spoke in bitter, impatient accusation.