K.'s lamp still burned overhead, but his restless tramping about had ceased. He must be reading--he read a great deal. She really ought to go to bed. A neighborhood cat came stealthily across the Street, and stared up at the little balcony with green-glowing eyes. “Come on, Bill Taft,” she said. “Reginald is gone, so you are welcome. Come on.” Joe Drummond, passing the house for the fourth time that evening, heard her voice, and hesitated uncertainly on the pavement. “That you, Sid?” he called softly. “Joe! Come in.” “It's late; I'd better get home.” The misery in his voice hurt her. “I'll not keep you long. I want to talk to you.” He came slowly toward her. “Well?” he said hoarsely. “You're not very kind to me, Joe.” “My God!” said poor Joe. “Kind to you! Isn't the kindest thing I can do to keep out of your way?” “Not if you are hating me all the time.” “I don't hate you.” “Then why haven't you been to see me? If I have done anything--” Her voice was a-tingle with virtue and outraged friendship. “You haven't done anything but--show me where I get off.” He sat down on the edge of the balcony and stared out blankly. “If that's the way you feel about it--” “I'm not blaming you. I was a fool to think you'd ever care about me. I don't know that I feel so bad--about the thing. I've been around seeing some other girls, and I notice they're glad to see me, and treat me right, too.” There was boyish bravado in his voice. “But what makes me sick is to have everyone saying you've jilted me.” “Good gracious! Why, Joe, I never promised.” “Well, we look at it in different ways; that's all. I took it for a promise.” Then suddenly all his carefully conserved indifference fled. He bent forward quickly and, catching her hand, held it against his lips. “I'm crazy about you, Sidney. That's the truth. I wish I could die!” The cat, finding no active antagonism, sprang up on the balcony and rubbed against the boy's quivering shoulders; a breath of air stroked the morning-glory vine like the touch of a friendly hand. Sidney, facing for the first time the enigma of love and despair sat, rather frightened, in her chair. “You don't mean that!” “I mean it, all right. If it wasn't for the folks, I'd jump in the river. I lied when I said I'd been to see other girls. What do I want with other girls? I want you!” “I'm not worth all that.” “No girl's worth what I've been going through,” he retorted bitterly. “But that doesn't help any. I don't eat; I don't sleep--I'm afraid sometimes of the way I feel. When I saw you at the White Springs with that roomer chap--” “Ah! You were there!” “If I'd had a gun I'd have killed him. I thought--” So far, out of sheer pity, she had left her hand in his. Now she drew it away. “This is wild, silly talk. You'll be sorry to-morrow.” “It's the truth,” doggedly. But he made a clutch at his self-respect. He was acting like a crazy boy, and he was a man, all of twenty-two! “When are you going to the hospital?”