"Do whatever you want with him. I have no wish to send him to jail." David stirred restlessly; his wound began to throb. Why couldn't the manikin go away and take his silly exaggerated--and disturbing--sentimentalities with him? Didn't he know that his very presence there was a reminder of something David wanted to forget--that the kingdom of desire was not to be entered without payment? But Jonathan did not leave, though he saw what the patient wished. He went without further detours to the thing that lay between them. "David, what are you going to do?" David made no answer but stared unwinkingly at the wall. "What are you going to do, David?" David had not guessed how hard it would be to give tongue to his desire. "I don't know that you have any right to ask. But if it will do you any good to know, I'm going to get free and--" He turned and looked defiantly into Jonathan's eyes. He saw the suffering there. But Jonathan's voice was still gentle. "You would do that?" "I would do that." "You mean," Jonathan persisted, "you will get a divorce? And then go to her?" How ugly, how sordid, that seemed, spoken aloud in the clear light of morning! But David said, "I mean that." "Have you thought of--your wife?" "She wouldn't be hurt, wouldn't really care." "And you have a boy. A beautiful boy, I am told." "That--that is part of the--price." "Ah! the price! You have thought of the price then. And you are ready to pay it. Other people have paid it, I know. I have wondered if they didn't pay too much. David--" Jonathan looked away. "Have you thought of--_her_?" "Can't you understand I am thinking of her? I can't let her be hurt. And I want her--you can't know--" He flung an arm over his face. And he was glad of the sharp pain that shot through his side. "I know," said Jonathan. "I know." They were silent for a while. The silence became almost unbearable to one of them. He let his arm fall slowly to his side. "Well, say it! If you have anything against it, say it." "No." Jonathan turned to him once more, sadly. "I have nothing to say against it. I know it would do no good, if I had. I say only, do it, if you think she will not be hurt--if you think you can. . . . I must go now." He left. Soon the nurse returned. She looked closely at her patient and took a thermometer from the table. "No!" he said sharply. "I'm all right. Just go away and leave me alone." Being a wise nurse, she obeyed. . . . When Jonathan reached his office a trembling white-faced girl was awaiting him. "How is he?" He told her. "It needn't be serious. But he had a narrow escape." "Why didn't you let me know last night?" "It would have done no good." He looked at her searchingly. But neither shrinking nor shame was in her eyes. "Will you go to him now?" "Go to him? I-- Why do you ask that?" "He needs you," he said. "There is no one else who can help him now. Will you go?"