Yes, George knew the game. Somehow or other he no longer felt bitter towards this poor creature. She was part of the system of which he was a victim also. There was nothing to be gained by hating each other. Just as the doctor said, what was needed was enlightenment. “Listen,” he said, “why don’t you try to get cured?” “I haven’t got the price,” was the answer. “Well,” he said, hesitatingly, “I know a doctor--one of the really good men. He has a free clinic, and I’ve no doubt he would take you in if I asked him to.” “YOU ask him?” echoed the other, looking at George in surprise. The young man felt somewhat uncomfortable. He was not used to playing the role of the good Samaritan. “I--I need not tell him about us,” he stammered. “I could just say that I met you. I have had such a wretched time myself, I feel sorry for anybody that’s in the same plight. I should like to help you if I could.” The girl sat staring before her, lost in thought. “I have treated you badly, I guess,” she said. “I’m sorry. I’m ashamed of myself.” George took a pencil and paper from his pocket and wrote the doctor’s address. “Here it is,” he said, in a business-like way, because he felt that otherwise he could become sentimental. He was half tempted to tell the woman what had happened to him, and all about Henriette and the sick child; but he realized that that would not do. So he rose and shook hands with her and left. The next time he saw the doctor he told him about this girl. He decided to tell him the truth--having already made so many mistakes trying to conceal things. The doctor agreed to treat the woman, making the condition that George promise not to see her again. The young man was rather shocked at this. “Doctor,” he exclaimed, “I assure you you are mistaken. The thing you have in mind would be utterly impossible.” “I know,” said the other, “you think so. But I think, young man, that I know more about life than you do. When a man and a woman have once committed such a sin, it is easy for them to slip back. The less time they spend talking about their misfortunes, and being generous and forbearing to each other, the better for them both.” “But, Doctor,” cried George. “I love Henriette! I could not possibly love anyone else. It would be horrible to me!” “Yes,” said the doctor. “But you are not living with Henriette. You are wandering round, not knowing what to do with yourself next.” There was no need for anybody to tell George that. “What do you think?” he asked abruptly. “Is there any hope for me?” “I think there is,” said the other, who, in spite of his resolution, had become a sort of ambassador for the unhappy husband. He had to go to the Loches house to attend the child, and so he could not help seeing Henriette, and talking to her about the child’s health and her own future. He considered that George had had his lesson, and urged upon the young wife that he would be wiser in future, and safe to trust.