"Then he's worth saving, Jimmy." Worth saving ... he agreed, and turned to his guest. In doing so he saw that Ruggles had come into the drawing-room to remove the coffee-tray. "Beg pardon, sir, but you mentioned there would be a letter to send shortly?" "By Jove! so I did!" exclaimed Bulstrode. "I beg your pardon; will you excuse me while I write a line at the desk?" The line was an order to the florist. For some reason the eyes of the Englishman had not quitted the butler's face, and Ruggles, with cold insolence, had stared at him in turn. Waring, albeit in another man's clothes, fed and seated before a friendly hearth, and once again within the pale of his own class, had regained something of his natural air and feeling of superiority. He resented the servant's insolence, and his face was angrily flushed as Bulstrode gave his orders, and the man left the room. "I must go away," he said, rather brusquely. "I can never thank you for what you have done. I feel as if I had been in a dream." "Sit down." His companion ignored his words. "Sit down." "It's late." "For what, my friend?" "I must find some place to sleep." "You have found it," gently smiled Bulstrode. "Your room is prepared for you here." Then he interrupted: "No thanks--no thanks. If what you tell me is all I think it is, I'm proud to share my roof with you, Waring." "Don't think well of me--don't!" blurted out the other. "You don't know what a ruined vagabond I am. When you send me out to-morrow I shall begin again; but let me tell you that although I've herded with tramps and thieves, been in the hospital and lock-up, and worked in the hell of a furnace in a ship's hold, nothing hurt me any more, not after I left England--not after those days when I waited in Liverpool for a word--for a sign--not after that, all you see the marks of now--nothing hurts now but the memory. I'm immune." "You will feel differently--you will humanize." "Never!" exclaimed the tramp. "To-night," said Bulstrode, simply. Waring looked at him curiously. "What a wonderful man!" he half murmured. "I was led to you by fate: you have forced me to lay my soul bare to you--and now..." "Let's look things in the face together," suggested the gentleman, practically. "I have a ranch out West. A good piece of property. It's in the hands of a clever Englishman and promises well. How would you like to go out there and start anew? He'll give you a welcome, and he's a first-rate business man. Will you go?" Waring had with his old habit thrust his hands in his pockets. He stood well on his feet. Bulstrode remarked it. He looked meditatively down between the soles of his shoes. "You mean to say you give me a chance--to--to----" "Begin anew, Waring." "I drink a great deal," said the young man. "You will swear off." "I've gambled away all the money I ever had." "You will be taking care of mine, and it will be a point of honor." "I'm under a cloud----