These words were wrung forth from Maggie's deepest soul with an effort like the convulsed clutch of a drowning man. Lucy trembled and was silent.

A gentle knock came at the door. It was Alice, the maid, who entered and said,

`I daredn't stay any longer, Miss Deane. They'll find it out, and there'll be such anger at your coming out so late.'

Lucy rose and said, `Very well, Alice - in a minute.'

`I'm to go away on Friday, Maggie,' she added, when Alice had closed the door again. `When I come back and am strong, they will let me do as I like. I shall come to you when I please then.'

`Lucy,' said Maggie, with another great effort, `I pray to God continually that I may never be the cause of sorrow to you any more.'

She pressed the little hand that she held between hers and looked up into the face that was bent over hers. Lucy never forgot that look.

`Maggie,' she said in a low voice, that had the solemnity of confession in it, `you are better than I am. I can't... '

She broke off there, and said no more. But they clasped each other again in a last embrace.


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