She sighed and bit her lips.
"He—he cared for her so much?" she murmured huskily.
Austin Ambrose shrugged his shoulders.
"Who can tell? I suppose so. Certainly, he raved about her enough. But all that is past, you know; the girl is dead, and Time—which, so they say, will wipe out anything save an I O U—will erase her from his memory!"
He got his hat, and stood looking down at her slight figure as she sat leaning forward over the fire.
Then she glanced up and caught his eyes.
With a little start, she rose and held out her hand.
"I—I do not know what to say to you, Austin," she said, falteringly. "To speak of gratitude seems a mere formal way of expressing what I feel. You have done me a great service——" She stopped and hesitated, embarrassed by his steadfast gaze. "If there is anything I can do——"
He shook his head.
"No," he said, with a smile, "there is nothing you can do for me, thanks, except win the day and be happy."