"Now that _she_ is gone," he exclaimed unsteadily, "your position is not so easy! Have you any prospect that you don't mention?" She shook her head. "Well, is there anything you can suggest?" he asked. "Any way out of the difficulty that occurs to you? Believe me----" "No," she said, "I can see nothing that is practicable; I----" "Would you be willing to come on the nursing-staff here? We're short-handed in the night work. It is an opening, and it might lead to a permanent appointment." Her heart began to beat rapidly; for an instant she did not reply. "It is very considerate of you, very generous; but I am afraid that wouldn't do." "Why not?" "It wouldn't do, because--well, I should have left Westport in any case." "You meant to, I know. But between the way you'd have left Westport if my mother had lived, and the way you'd leave it now, there is a vast difference." "I must leave it, all the same." "Pardon me," he said, "I can't permit you to do so. I wouldn't let any woman go out into the world with the knowledge that she went to meet certain distress. Your hospital experience appears to solve the problem. You could come on next week. If your reluctance is attributable to myself--hear me out, I must speak plainly!--if you refuse because what has passed between us makes further conversation with me a pain to you, you've only to remember that conversation between us in the hospital will necessarily be of the briefest kind. All that I remember is that I've asked you to be my wife and you don't care for me--I'm the man you've rejected. I wish to be something more serviceable, though; I wish to be your friend. In the hospital I shall have little chance, for there, to all intents and purposes, we shall be as much divided as if you went to London. While the chance does exist I want to use it; I want to advise you strongly to take the course I propose. It needn't prevent your attempting to find a post elsewhere, you know; on the contrary, it would facilitate your obtaining one." Her hand had shaded her brow as she listened; now it sank slowly to her lap. "I need hardly tell you I'm grateful," she said, in tones that struggled to be firm. "Anyone would be grateful; to me the offer is very--is more than good." Her composure broke down. "I know what I must seem to you--you have heard nothing but the worst of me!" she exclaimed. "I would hear nothing that it hurt you to say," he answered; and for a minute neither of them said any more. There had been a gentleness in his last words that touched her keenly; the appeal in hers had gone home to him. Neither spoke, but the man's breath rose eagerly, and; the woman's head drooped lower and lower on her breast.