"I'm not going yet, Dick," she said gently, "unless you turn me out." His face quivered unexpectedly. He turned from her. "There's--nothing to wait for," he said. But Juliet stood motionless. Her eyes went down the long bare room with its empty forms and ink-splashed desks. She thought it the most desolate place she had ever seen. After an interval of blank silence Dick spoke again. "Don't you stay! I'm not myself to-night. I can't--think. It was awfully good of you to come. But don't--stay!" "Dick!" she said. At sound of her voice he turned. His eyes looked at her out of such a depth of misery as pierced her to the heart. She saw his hands clench against his sides. "O my God!" he said under his breath. "Dick!" she said again very earnestly. "Don't send me away! Let me help you!" "You can't," he said. "You've been too good to me--already." "You wouldn't say that to me if I were--your wife," she said. He flinched sharply. "Juliet! Don't torture me! I've had--as much as I can stand to-night." She held out her hand to him with a gesture superbly simple. "My dear, I will marry you to-morrow if you will have me," she said. He stood for a long second staring at her. Then she saw his face change and harden. The ascetic look that she had noticed long ago came over it like a mask. "No!" he said. "No!" Again he turned from her. He went away up the long room, the bare boards echoing to the tramp of his feet with a dull and hopeless sound. He came to a stand before the writing-table at the further end, and from there he spoke to her, his words brief, as it were edged with steel. "Can you imagine how Cain felt when he said that his punishment was greater than he could bear? That's how I feel to-night. I am like Cain. Whatever I touch is cursed." The words startled her. Again for a second she wondered if the suffering through which he had passed had affected his brain. But she felt no fear. She kept her purpose before her, clear and steadfast as a beacon shining in the dark. "You are not like Cain," she said. "And even if you were, do you think I should love you any the less?" He made a desperate gesture. "Would you love me if I were a murderer?" he said. "I love you--whatever you are," she made unfaltering reply. He turned upon her, almost like an animal at bay. "I am--a murderer, Juliet!" he said, a terrible fire in his eyes. In spite of herself she flinched, so awful was his look. "Dick, what do you mean?" He flung out a hand as if to keep her from him though she had not moved. "I will tell you what I mean, and then--you will go. On the night Robin was born,--I killed his father!" "Dick!" she said.