You remind me of him--just a little.

Now will you do as I ask you, and take off your wet things ?" He let go her hand gently.
"I will,"-- he said, unsteadily--for there were tears in his eyes--"I will do anything you wish.

Only tell me your name!" "My name?
My name is Mary,--Mary Deane." "Mary Deane!" he repeated softly--and yet again--"Mary Deane! A pretty name! Shall I tell you mine!" "Not unless you like,"-- she replied, quickly--"It doesn't matter!" "Oh, you'd better know it!" he said--"I'm only old David--a man 'on the road' tramping it to Cornwall." "That's a long way!" she murmured compassionately, as she took his weather-beaten hat and shook the wet from it--"And why do you want to tramp so far, you poor old David ?" "I'm looking for a friend,"-- he answered--"And maybe it's no use trying,--but I should like to find that friend before I die." "And so you will, I'm sure!" she declared, smiling at him, but with something of an anxious expression in her eyes, for Helmsley's face was very pinched and pallid, and every now and then he shivered violently as with an ague fit--"But you must pick up your strength first.

Then you'll get on better and quicker.

Now I'm going to leave you while you change.