“Yes, the devil tortured me with love first. I was seeing you and hearing you everywhere and in everything, Glory. But I got over that, and then he tortured me with remorse. I had left you to the mercy of the world. It was my duty to watch over you. I did it, too.” She glanced up quickly. “Ah, you never knew that, but no matter! It's all over now, and I'm a different man entirely. But why do you come and torment me again? It's nothing to you, nothing at all. You can shake it off in a moment. That's your nature, Glory; you can't help it. But have you no pity? You find me here, trying to help the helpless--the brave girls who have the virtue to be poor, and the strength to be weak, and the courage to be friendless. Why can't you leave me alone? What am I to you? Nothing at all! You care nothing for me--nothing whatever.” She glanced up again, and the look of love in her eyes was stronger now than the look of awe. He saw it and could not help knowing how strongly it worked upon his feelings. “Go back to your own world, unhappy girl! You love it--you must; you have sacrificed the best impulses of your heart to it!” She was smiling now. It was the old radiant smile, but with a gleam of triumph in it that he had never seen before. It worked like madness upon him, and he tried to insult her again. “Go back to your own company, to the people who _play_ at real life, and build toy houses, and give themselves away body and soul for the clapping of hands in a theatre! Go back to the lies and hypocrisies of society, and the brainless, mashers who adorn it! They dance superbly, and are at home in drawing-rooms, and know all about sporting matters and theatrical affairs! I know none of these things, and I am kicked and cuffed and ridiculed and hounded down as an indecent man or shunned as a moral leper I Why do you come to me?” he cried, hoarse and husky. But she only stretched out her hands to him and said, “Because I love you!” “What are you saying?” He was quivering with pain. “I love you, and have always loved you, and you love me--you know you do--you love me still!” “Glory!” “John!” “For God's sake! Glory!” With a wild shout of joy he rushed upon her, flung his arms about her, and covered her face and hands with kisses. After a moment he whispered, “Not here, not here!” and she felt too that the room was suffocating them, and they must go out into the open air, the fields, the park. Somebody was knocking at the door. It was Mrs. Pincher. A man was waiting to speak to the Father. They found him in the lane. It was Jupe, the waiter. His simple face wore a strange expression of joy and fear, as if he wished to smile and dare not. “My pore missis 'as got off and wants to come 'ome, sir, and I thought as you'd tell me what I oughter do.” “Take her back and forgive her, my man, that's the Christian course.”