I 'd rather go with you than be good." His sensitive face flushed with delight, but he looked gravely down into her indignant eyes.

"Oh, yes, you will, Kid," and his hand touched her roughened hair caressingly.

"She's a good, kind woman, all right, and I don't blame her for not liking my style." "Do--do you really want me to stick it out here, Bob ?" It was no small struggle for him to say so, for he was beginning to comprehend just what this separation meant.

She was more to him than he had ever supposed, more to him than she had been even an hour before; and now he understood clearly that from this moment they must ever run farther apart--her life tending upward, his down.

Yet there was but one decision possible.