"She was as innocent as Mary's little lamb."
"I don't know what your friend did," said Sadie, in a clear, emphatic voice, "but I do know what he ought to have done. His first duty was to his State."
Jeff stared, and then laughed.
"To his State. That's so. Yes, yes; and that's how my friend acted. He did arrest the father, and the daughter--why, o' course, she never spoke to him again."
"It's a sad story," said Sadie, after a pause. "I'm sorry you told it to me to-day, because----" her voice faltered.
"Yes," said Jeff, "because----"
"Because it has been so pleasant to-day-for me, I mean."
She looked down, blushing. Jeff seized her hand. Sadie tried, not very hard, to pull it away. Jeff felt the muscles relaxing, the slight form swayed towards him. Suddenly he released her.
"O, my God!" he exclaimed. "You are right, I feel in all my bones you're dead right. I ought to do my duty. I'm feeling and behaving like a madman."
Sadie stared at him in troubled silence. She believed that in losing his heart the poor fellow had lost his wits also. Yet she was sensible that love for her lay at the root of his distress. And his pain, for his suffering was pitiful to behold, puckered her brows, twisted her lips. With a soft cry she touched timidly his shoulder.