Stuart took the cold thin hand in his.
"Not unless they lock me up too, child. Don't worry. I'm a lawyer. I'll see that no harm comes to you."
"All right. I'll do just as you say," she responded gratefully.
When the matron at the Mission had soothed away the poor creature's last fear, Stuart turned to go.
The girl stepped quickly forward as he extended his hand.
"Good-bye, child, I hope you'll soon be better. If I can help you, let me know. I'm glad to have had the chance to be of service to you to-night. You have done more for me than I have for you. I am very grateful."
The unnaturally bright eyes gazed into his as if they didn't quite understand, and then through the tears she slowly said:
"You have saved me from hell. I'm afraid I haven't long to live. I'll only ask God that it shall be long enough for me to show you how grateful I am."
Stuart walked home with a sense of spiritual elation he had never felt before. For the first time he had given himself utterly without the hope of reward. A new joy filled his heart with a warm glow. Life began to take a deep, new meaning. The boundaries of the world had been extended to include millions whose existence he had ignored. How vast and thrilling their life! As yet, no new purpose had shaped itself within, but his soul was stirring with vague, mighty impulses.
When he reached the house on Washington Square it was yet early in the evening. He longed for the sweet restfulness which Harriet's presence always brought. He had often come home from a visit to Nan, which had been a continuous torture, to find in her a grateful peace. How strange that we so often love those who have the supreme faculty of torturing instead of making us happy. He found Harriet reading in the library.