"When I met you in the office the other day," she said, "I thought I could bluff it through. But when I saw you all knocked up like that; and knew that you cared--" Her eyes came back to his. "Dan we might as well face the truth." "You mean--" "I mean I'm going to wait for you if I have to wait forever. You're not free now, but when you are, I'll come to you." He made one stride toward her and swept her into his arms. "Do you mean it, girl?" he asked, his voice breaking with the unexpected joy. "You are going to stand by me? You are going to wait?" "Let me go, Dan!" she implored. "Where's Ted? I mustn't stay--I--" But Dan held her as if he never meant to let her go, and suddenly she ceased to struggle or to consider right or wrong or consequences. She lifted her head and her lips met his in complete surrender. For the first time in her short and stormy career she had found exactly what she wanted. For a long time they stood thus; then Dan recovered himself with a start. He pushed her away from him almost roughly. "Nance, I didn't mean to! I won't again! Only I've wanted you so long, I've been so unhappy. I can't let you leave me now! I can't let you go with the Clarkes!" "You don't have to. They've gone without me." "But you said you'd come to say good-by. I thought you were starting to California." "Well, I'm not. I am going to stay right here. Dr. Adair has asked me to take charge of the clinic--the new one they are going to open in Calvary Alley." "And we're going to be near each other, able to see each other every day--" But she stopped him resolutely. "No, Dan, no. I knew we couldn't do that before I came to-night. Now I know it more than ever. Don't you see we got to cut it all out? Got to keep away from each other just the same as if I was in California and you were here?" Dan's big strong hands again seized hers. "It won't be wrong for us just to see each other," he urged hotly. "I promise never to say a word of love or to touch you, Nance. What's happened to-night need never happen again. We can hold on to ourselves; we can be just good friends until--" But Nance pulled her hands away impatiently. "You might. I couldn't. I tell you I got to keep away from you, Dan. Can't you see? Can't you understand? I counted on you to see the right of it. I thought you was going to help me!" And with an almost angry sob, she sat down suddenly on the leaf-strewn bench and, locking her arms across the railing, dropped her flaming face upon them. For a long time he stood watching her, while, his face reflected the conflicting emotions that were fighting within him for mastery. Then into his eyes crept a look of dumb compassion, the same look he had once bent on a passion-tossed little girl lying on the seat of a patrol-wagon in the chill dusk of a Christmas night. He straightened his shoulders and laid a firm hand on her bowed head.