"I have told him, Rosalie, all that we know. You need not repeat that. Begin where you went to Mr. De Jarnette in his office." "Yes. I will try very hard to tell it connectedly. But it seems to come to me in bits. Some of it stands out so much more distinctly than the rest." She lay still a moment thinking. Then fixing her preternaturally bright eyes upon him and speaking slowly, she began: "I had been sick for months in the hospital. But I was better then and soon would have to go away. I did not know where I could go and I worried a great deal about it. I was sorry--no, not sorry either--for there was my baby, and what would have become of him if I had died. Well, one day--the very day I was to be discharged--I saw in a paper that he, this man, had come back to Washington. After thinking it over I determined that I would go to him and ask him to settle on me enough money to let me take the child and go away somewhere where I need never trouble him any more--where I could have a little home and keep my baby with me. You see, sir, it was not that I was unwilling to work, but with the child I could not get anything to do." Richard De Jarnette gripped the iron rail, smothering a groan. "I went straight to him from the hospital. He was sitting at his desk cleaning his revolver--a pretty thing that seemed to catch my eye and hold it while we talked--it was so bright and shining. I remember thinking that the price of it would pay for many, many loaves of bread.... I told him what I wanted. But--I think something must have gone wrong before I came, for he was very angry--said he had thought that he was through with me--that this was blackmail. Sir, I swear to you I did not know what blackmail was. I had never heard the word." She waited a moment to recover breath and then went on. "Oh. I said bitter things to him then. I seemed to see the child before my eyes, gasping as it did in those days when we starved before the fever came, and it maddened me. He bade me leave it in the Home if I could not care for it, and go away--to some other city--I would soon forget it if I were away, and it would be cared for by the District. I, its mother, would forget! He said that he would give me money to go away from Washington--a ticket to Chicago or the far West--no more. He had done all for me that he could--far more than many a man would do--it would have to end some time--and more like this. A ticket to go away and leave my child! This was his cure for all my wrongs!" Margaret stooped over and took the sick girl's hand. At the sweet touch of sympathy Rosalie turned toward her, the words coming now fast and feverishly.