"Jean Gamache," she replied. "He ruined me and left me to starve."
"I am innocent of his death!" he said quietly and gladly.
She nodded. He was silent for a moment. "The child still lives?" he asked. She nodded again. "Well, let it be so," he said. "But you owe me five years—and a good name."
"I wish to God I could give them back!" she cried, tears streaming down her cheeks. "It was for my child; he was so young."
"It can't be helped now," he said sighing, and he turned away from her.
"Won't you forgive me?" she asked bitterly.
"Won't you give me back those five years?"
"If the child did not need me I would give my life," she answered. "I owe it to you."
Her haggard, hunted face made him sorry; he, too, had suffered.
"It's all right," he answered gently. "Take care of your child."