"How much longer is that?"
"Three years, sir."
"And when you come out, what shall you do then?"
"Start all over again, sir; try to get some honest work an' live straight."
"Do you think you can?"
"I know I can, sir. Ye see, he died in my arms, called me 'is bye Jarge, said 'e were proud of me, 'e did! A man can begin again an' live straight an' square wi' a memory the like o' that to help him."
"Then why not begin to-night?"
He passed a tremulous hand through his silver hair, and stared at me with incredulous eyes.
"Begin--to-night," he half whispered.
"I have an old house among the Kentish hop gardens," I went on; "no one lives there at present except the caretaker, but it is within the bounds of probability that I may go to stay there--some day. Now the gardens need trimming, and I'm very fond of flowers. Do you suppose you could make the place look decent in--say, a month?"